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THE  BOOK  OF  LOVE 


THE   BOOK  OF  LOVE 


BY 

ELSA  BARKER 

Author  of  •*  The  Frozen  Grail  and  Other  Poems,** 
"  The  Son  of  Mary  Bethel  " 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  &  COMPANY 

191^ 


COPTBIGHT,  1912 

Bt  duffield  and  company 


CONTENTS 

When  I  am  Dead  and  Sister  to  the  Dust 

I.     THE    GARDEN    OF    ROSE    AND    RUE. 
A  Quatrain  Sequence 

1.  The    Rose 1 

2.  The  Rue 8 

II.     LYRICS  AND  SONNETS 

page 

The  Bride  of  the  Overman 21 

I  Know 22 

The  Messenger 22 

Out  of  the  Past 25 

Mate 27 

The  Symbol  .........  27 

A  Maiden 28 

A  Year  Ago ,     ...  29 

Haunted ,  29 

Song    of   Krishna SO 

You 31 

The  Verge 32 

Sometime 33 

He  Who  Knows  I.ove 34 

Love's  Paradox 34 

In  a  Woman's  Eyes 35 

The  Wisdom  of  the  Rose     .      .      *      ,      ,  36 

A   Hidden   Chord      . 37 

The  Parting  Guest 37 

V 


3C€672 


PAGE 

Petit  Amour ..     .  S8 

The  Spectre 38 

Sisterhood 39 

The  Beggar    .........  39 

L'Academiste        .      .     ,., 40 

The  Staff 40 

At  Midnight 41 

Love's  Fear 41 

Requiescat  in  Pace 42 

Love's  Tragedy  and  Comedy     ....  42 

Without  the  Temple 43 

When  Love  Cometh  Not 43 

Even  as  You  and  I 44 

The  Murderer 44 

Rose  of  Shiraz 45 

The  Song  of  the  Wandering  Woman   .      .  45 

Many   Advisers 46 

In  the  Dawnlight     .      .     ; 46 

Twin-Souls 48 

The  Bungler 50 

Spring-Song  of  the  Minstrel     ....  50 

The  Love  of  Woman     .      .      .      .      .      .  51 

The  Slumberer 52 

The  Violin .52 

By  the  Sea .  54 

Good-Bye 55 

In  the  Soul's  House 56 

The  Coming  of  Love 57 

Song  of  the  Mortal  Sun-Bride  ....  58 

Under  the  Stars  .      .      .      ....      .      .  60 

The  Man-Child   .........  61 

Sapphics   ..........  62 

Outside 63 

An  Epistle 63 

The  Angel     .........  66 

To  the  Unknown  Love 68 

vi 


PAGE 

The  Lonely  Quest     .      .      .      .,     ,.,     ,.,     ,.  69 

Salutation  to  the  Lord  of  Love  .....  70 

The   Way       .      ..     ...     .     ,.,     .,     ,.,     ..     ,..  72 

III.     AZELON. 

Azelon      .........     ,.      .     ,.  75 

Far  Away      .      .      .      .     ,.,     ,.      .,     .<     .  76 

In   May 77 

Pervasion        ....      .     ..i     ,.      .      .      .  77 

Shadow-Love        .      .     ,.,     .      .      .      .      .  78 

Old  Songs 79 

Love-Glance 79 

The  Substance  and  the  Shadow     .      .      .  80 

The   Beckoner .81 

The  Gate 81 

The  Secret  Jewels    .      .      .      ....  82 

When  We  are  Old 83 

Sic  Transit  Gloria  Mundi 83 

Passion   Seeds 84 

The    Stillborn 87 

The   Intervener 89 

IV.     THE  HUMAN  MIRROR.     A  Rhapsody  .  93 

V.     THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  BRIDE.     A  Sonnet 
Sequence. 

The  Guerdon  of  Desire 117 

The  Mystic  Hill 117 

The    Bridegroom 118 

The  Mystic  Messenger 119 

Out  of  the  Maze 119 

Recognition 120 

The  Spell 121 

Alter  Ego 121 

The   Horoscope 122 

The   Dream 123 

The  Avowal 123 

vii 


PAGE 

Consummation 124 

Love's  Fearlessness 125 

The  Winds  of  Fate 125 

The  Moon  Path 126 

The  Fog 127 

The  Gift  of  Pain 127 

The  Theft 128 

The  Questioner 129 

The  Answer 129 

Love  Madness 130 

The  Voyage 131 

The  Moment 131 

Love's  Hour  of  Silence 132 

Plenitude 133 

The  Inscription 133 

Consecrated 134 

Duality 135 

The  Miracle 135 

In  Love's  Eyes 136 

The  Thrush 137 

A  Vision 137 

The  Mystic  Rose 138 

Indirection 139 

Aurora  Borealis 139 

The  Body 140 

Asleep 141 

The  Indwelling  Mystery 141 

At  the  Summit .    142 

The  Guest 143 

The   Watcher 143 

In  the  Dawn  Chamber 144 

Why 145 

The  Gentle  One 145 

Caresses 146 

Fulfilment 147 

The  Storm-Lord 147 

viii 


PAGE 

The  Cup 148 

The  Sanctuary 149 

Love's  Avatars 149 

Creation 150 

Love's  Infinity     .      , 151 

The  Seal 151 

Realisation 152 

The  Price  of  Love 153 

Love's    Mystic   Jewel 153 

Confession 154 

The  Past  . 155 

The    Covenanters 155 

Love-Sleep 156 

The  Menace 157 

The  Hand 157 

Sisters 158 

I  Love  You 159 

The  Candle .      .159 

Exorcism 160 

Tears 161 

The  Ideal       .........  161 

The  Dual  Vision 162 

Genesis 163 

The  Triangle 163 

Love- Wraith 164 

The  Silence  of  Love .165 

Summer- Absence 165 

The  Clock 166 

The  Sea  of  Love .  167 

Nature-Longing  ........  167 

Love's  Lyceum 168 

Ephemera 169 

The  Oak 169 

Under  the  Sky 170 

The  Virgin  Shrine 171 

The  Child 171 

ix 


PAGE 

Words       ..........    172 

The  Veil 173 

Truth 173 

The  Cruel  Word       .      .      .     ,.,     .      .      .    174 

Joy  of  Love 175 

Isolation 175 

Absorption ,.     :.      .   176 

Opulence .,.,.,..    177 

As  a  Thousand  Years     .      .      .      .      .      .177 

Parted       .....     .     ,.,     .     ,.      .      .    178 

Autumn 179 

Faith  ......      .     ,.,     .      .      .179 

The  Letter 180 

Love's  Wasted  Days'       .      .      .      .      .      .181 

Separate .      .      .181 

Absence r..     .      .      .      .182 

Waiting 183 

After  Long  Absence 183 

The  Abysm 184 

Insatiate    .      .      . 185 

Beyondness     .      .      ...      .      .      .      .185 

Microprosopos      .,     .      .,     ,.,     „     ,.,     .      .186 
The  Tower     .....,,.     ....     .      .187 

Acme 187 

The  Sacrament  of  Love 188 

When  I  Shall  Lie  in  Death     .      .      .      .189 

The  Unspoken 189 

Hidden  Beauty    .      .      .      ....      .      .190 

The  Pervader       ....     ..,     .,     .      .    191 

Recompense    .      .      .,     .,     .     ,.,     .      .      .    191 

The  Man 192 

Illumination 193 

The  Song  and  the  Singer   .      .     ,.      .      .193 

The   Eagles 194 

The  Tabernacle   .      .      .      .,     ,.      .      .      .195 
Love's  Humbleness     ...     .,     ..     ,.,     ,.,     .        195 

X 


PAGE 

Love's  Baptism i.     ,.      .196 

The  Icy  Path 197 

A  Question ,.      .      .  197 

The  Rhythmic  Heart 198 

The  Presence       .      . 199 

The  Sphere  of  Love        .      .      .      .      .      .199 

The  Touch  of  Beauty 200 

The  Unassuagable 201 

At  Love's  Feet 201 

From  the  Void 202 

Love-Light 203 

The  River 203 

At  the  Supreme  Hour 204 

The  Oasis ,  205 

The  Thought  of  Thee 205 

Love's  Immortality 206 

Beyond  the  Dragon's  Gate 207 

The   Tides 207 

Attainment 208 

Tipherath 209 

The  Entity ,.      .  209 

The  Inspirer 210 

When  You  are  Sad 211 

The  Lyric  Seed .211 

In  the  Stillness 212 

The  Revelation 213 

A  Dream  of  Death 213 

The  Abiding  Peace 214 

The  Sower 215 

Master 215 

The  Unrecorded 216 

The  Clue 217 

The  Supreme  Gift 217 

Love's  Day  and  Night 218 

The  Hidden  One 219 

Spirit  of   Beauty 219 

xi 


PAGE 

The  Etablera 220 

The  Guardian  of  the  Temple    .1     .      .      .221 

Woman-Love        ........  221 

The  Inner  Light       ........  222 

The  Paradigm 223 

Looking  Upward 223 

The   Broken   Prayer       .......  224 

The  Opener   ......*,....  225 

The   Sacrifice 225 

The  Valley  of  Dismay 226 

The  Great  Dark 227 

The  Titan 227 

The  Well  of  Tears 228 

Within  Love's  Veil 229 

Withdrawn 229 

The  Empty  Room 230 

The  Love-Singer 231 


xu 


I 

THE  GARDEN  OF  ROSE  AND  RUE 
A  QUATRAIN  SEQUENCE 


When  I  am  dead  and  sister  to  the  dust; 
When  no  more  avidly  I  drink  the  wine 
Of   human   love;   when   the  pale  Proserpine 

Has  covered  me  with  poppies,  and  cold  rust 

Has  cut  my  lyre-strings,  and  the  sun  has  thrust 
Me  underground  to  nourish  the  world-vine. 
Men  shall  discover  these  old  songs  of  mine. 

And  say:  This  woman  lived  —  as  poets  must! 

This  woman  lived  and  wore  life  as  a  sword 
To  conquer  wisdom;  this   dead   woman  read 

In  the  sealed  Booh  of  Love  and  underscored 

The  meanings.     Then  the  sails  of  faith  she  spread. 

And  faring  out  for  regions  unexplored. 
Went  singing  down  the  River  of  the  Dead, 


THE  GARDEN  OF  ROSE  AND  RUE 

I 

THE  ROSE 

When  I  entreated  Life  to  make  me  wise^ 
It  drew  aside  Love's  broidered  veil  of  lies; 

And  perilous  Beauty,  undivined  before. 
Beckoned  me  from  the  mazes  of  his  eyes. 

I  do  not  care  for  gold,  it  is  too  cheap; 
Nor  fame,  whose  field  oblivion  shall  reap. 

But  I  would  sing,  and  linger  in  the  sun. 
And  love  —  as  only  poets  can  —  and  sleep. 

The  poorest  lives  some  little  blossoms  bring 
To  deck  Love's  altar  in  the  days  of  spring. 

Save  for  the  perfume  of  their  vernal  bloom. 
The  pain  of  birth  would  seem  too  stern  a  thing. 

Only  the  poet  looks  Love  in  the  eyes: 
He  knows  the  meaning  of  the  mystic  sighs. 

The  rapturous  tears,  the  pain,  the  mad  desire 
That  starves  upon  the  lips  it  satisfies. 

And  after  all  our  toils  and  dreams  and  prayers, 
'Tis  only  Love  for  which  the  future  cares; 

Labour  and  fame  are  steps  along  Love's  way. 
And  art  is  but  the  garment  that  he  wears. 

1 


;  "iLove,  let  vts,  steal  away  into  the  night  — 
Into  the  luring  wonder  of  the  night. 

Impassioned  earth  breathes  through  the  lonely  grove 
The  cool  delirious  fragrance  of  the  night. 

Yea,  thou  didst  make  me  captive  with  a  glance  — 
An  arrow  shot  across  the  gulfs  of  chance; 

Its  gleam  appeared  to  my  enchanted  eyes 
The  light  of  immemorial  romance. 

Thy  body  is  a  living  shrine  for  me. 

Thy  deep  embrace  the  bread  and  wine  for  me; 

Thy  fervid  kisses   are  the  prayers  of  faith. 
Thine  eyes  the  altar  lights  that  shine  for  me. 

The  moon  sheds  no  such  glamour  anywhere 
As  on  the  nimbus  of  thy  mystic  hair; 

Each  separate  thread  is   an  aspiring  ray  — 
An  emanation  luminous  with  prayer. 

Time's  hidden  ways  thine  eyes  reveal  to  me: 
Deep  in  their  vision  broods  the  memory 

Of  all  the  myriad  lives  thy  soul  has  known-, 
Thou  passionate  pilgrim  of  eternity! 

Thy  voice  is  thrilling  with  an  overtone 

That  haunts  the  memory,  like  a  whisper  blown 

Upon  the  wind  from  somewhere  in  the  dark: 
Maybe  some  ancient  world  our  sires  have  known. 


There  is  a  sweeter  sound  than  seraph  hears: 
The  rhythm  that  moves  the  ever-pulsing  years 
Holds  less  of  lure  and  wonder  to  the  soul  — 
The   music   of   thy   heart-beats   to  my    ears. 

Thy  breath  is  like  the  breath  of  orient  nights. 
Whose   brooding   glamour   fragrantly  invites 
The  fainting  fancy  to  a  couch  where  wait 
The  trembling  dreams  of  wild,  mysterious  rites. 

I  touch  the  breathing  marvel  of  thy  flesh, 
Like  throbbing  rose-leaves,  and  as  dewy-fresh. 

How  sprang  this  blossom  from  the  common  soil- 
World  dust,  that  holds  thy  spirit  in  its  mesh? 

The  immortal  Breath  blows  o*er  us  where  we  lie 
Beneath  the  star-leaved  branches  of  the  sky. 

Whispering  a  cosmic  benedicite  — 
O  listen.  Love,  before  the  Word  goes  by! 

The  lure  of  sxins  is  but  the  lure  of  Love, 

Their  all-creative  warmth  —  the  warmth  of  Love ; 

And  symbol  of  the  passion  of  the  cross  — 
The  shadowy  rood  upon  the  breast  of  Love. 

In  these  unquenchable  desires  we  feel 
The  thirsty  future's  dominant  appeal; 

And  through  the  fire  of  our  impassioned  dust 
A  thousand  ancestors  their  loves  reveal. 


There  is  a  dream  that  often  comes  to  me 
In  the  grey  dawn,  and  eyes  me  wistfully; 

'Tis  little  as  the  child  in  Mary's  arms 
And  all  as  lovely  —  and  it  looks  like  thee ! 

Lest  Love  should  grow  too  earthly  to  aspire, 
The  wise  gods  blinded  him  with  vague  desire; 
They  nourished  him  on  dreams  and  ecstasies. 
Tempered  his  arrows  in  the  sacred  fire. 

They  say  thou  art  an  idler,  lover  mine, 
Drunken  with  fancies,  poetry  and  wine. 

What  cares  the  nightingale  for  envious  crows? 
Thy  very  faults  are  lovely  —  being  thine. 

For  me  the  cosmic  aeons  lie  complete, 

O  Love,  between  thy  forehead  and  thy  feet ! 

Here  the  untrammelled  hours  of  day  and  night  — 
Here  dust  and  soul  inalienably  meet. 

My  spirit  is  an  emanated  flame 

That  burns  the  rose-leaves  of  its  earthly  frame, — 

Too  vision-rapt  to  heed  the  rose's  tears. 
Unmindful  of  her  glory  or  her  shame. 

Thy  love  is  like  deep  waters  all  around  — 
Warm  pulsing  waters,  in  whose  brooding  sound 

The  lone  wail  of  my  heart  is  lulled  with  dreams. 
And  the  far  clamour  of  the  world  is  drowned. 


Why  do  the  vine  and  oak  together  dwell? 
Why  does  the  sun  the  listening  stars  compel? 

Why  does   the   moon   allure  the   sighing  sea? 
I  am  so  wise  with  love  that  I  could  tell. 

0  Lover  mine,  I  pray  thee,  do  not  weep ! 

The  very  earth  is   damp  with  tears  —  grave-deep ; 

Without  thy  bitter  tribute,  the  brave  sun 
Can  never  dry  them  ere  Time  calls  to  sleep. 

The  joy  of  Love  is  better  than  Love's  tears, 
So  kiss  me  and  forget  thy  foolish  fears. 

Soon,  soon  the  clammy  dark  lips  of  the  grave 
In  one  cold  kiss  will  hold  us  years  on  years! 

How  swift  the  merry  sand  runs  in  the  glass! 
The  midnight  daughters  glide  along  the  grass. 

Veiling  their  faces   in  their  purple  hair. 
Draw  nearer  —  this   enchanted  hour  will  pass. 

The  stars  have  chosen  thee  to  be  my  king. 
To  tune  my  lyre  of  life  and  make  me  sing; 

The  pressure  of  thy  rose-leaf  lips  on  mine 
Is  more  inspiring  than  the  breath  of  Spring. 

1  am  the  sun  that  warms  thee  with  its  heat, 

I  am  the  dream  that  makes  thy  slumber  sweet, 

I  am  the  moon  that  watches  thee  all  night, 
I   am  the  sandals   underneath  thy   feet. 


Draw  close  the  mystic  curtain  of  Love's  bed: 
Here   the   dim  Future   and   the   Past  are  wed. 

And  brooding  Isis  veils  her  mysteries  — 
To  whelm  the  world  when  thou  and  I  are  dead. 

In  my  life's  soil  thy  life  is  planted  deep. 
Never  to  be  uprooted;  and  I  keep 

The  lyric  seeds  thy  love  has  sown  in  me 
For  a  rare  harvest  all  the  world  shall  reap. 

Thou  art  the  dream  between  Love's  day  and  night. 
In  thy  strange  being  Love's  extremes  unite: 

The   trance-like    prayer   that   purifies    the    soul, 
The  throbbing  senses  in  their  fierce  delight. 

Thy  dear  white   feet  are  moistened  with  my  tears. 
Oh,  what  rose-shrouded  thorns,  what  spectral  fears 

Lurk   for  their   toilsome  passing  in  the   dark 
Along  the  tragic  pathway  of  the  years! 

The  lily  petals  of  thy  hand  are  light 

As  vagrant  dreams.     I  feel  them  in  the  night  — 

Soft  as  the  lotus   of  some   lunar  lake 
That  drowses  on  the  waves  in  vague  delight. 

Love  dreams  and  murmurs  something  in  his  sleep. 
With  what  strange  secret  do  I  vigil  keep? 

Maybe  some  slumbering  passion  of  dead  days ! 
I  veil  my  face  in  Love's  long  hair  and  weep. 


6 


Love  wakes  and  leans  above  me  in  the  dark. 

Half  dazed  with  dreams  that  thrill  the  teeming  dark; 

His  warm  soft  lips  feel  blindly  for  my  lips 
In  the  delirious  wonder  of  the  dark. 

0  Love  ineffable!     When  fused  we  lie. 

Life  piercing  life,  through   flesh  and  breath  and  eye, 

I  know  not  if  this  fiery  luminous   form  — 
This  river  of  lyric  flame  be  thou  or  I ! 

The  muses   whisper  to  me   from  thy  hair; 
Thy  languorous  look  is  perfume  on  the  air. 
Thy  breath  a  bridal  veil  that  covers  me. 
Thy  touch  a  wild  insatiable  prayer. 

1  lay  my  spirit  in  thine  open  hands; 
Between  thy  Angers  the  ecstatic  sands 

Of  my  life  tremble.     This  unearthly  dream 
Only  the  poet  ever  understands! 

The  birds  are  singing,  and  my  lover  sleeps. 
The  rosy  light  of  morning  slowly  creeps 
Over  the  moveless  beauty   of  his   face: 
Who  knows  this  hour  knows  Love's  sublimest  deeps. 

So  still  is   Love  he  hears  the  farthest  sound; 
The  footfall  of  the  seasons  in  their  round. 

The  soft  etheric  swish  of  the  rushing  spheres. 
The  murmur  of  the  mute  things  underground. 


II 

THE  RUE 

The  night  I  learned  that  Love  was  false  to  me. 
Beside  my  bed  the  stars  watched  pitilessly, — 

Old  midwives,  muttering  at  each  moan  of  pain: 
**  The  birth-pangs  of  a  soul  are  good  to  see !  " 

0  little  hour  of  Love,  so  wild  and  sweet! 

1  gave  the  world,  thy  honey-dew  to  eat; 

And  now  the  tear-sown  pathway  of  the  dead 
Echoes  the  patter  of  thy  flying  feet. 

I  can  no  longer  bear  thy  burning  eyes  — 

They  brand  me,  blind  me;  and  thy  smothered  sighs 

Of  passion  are  as  poison  to  my  soul, 
That  drinks  its  fill  of  death  with  avid  cries. 

0  Love,  my  Love,  thou  art  so  bitter-sweet! 

1  would  that  from  thy  forehead  to  thy  feet 

Thou  vrert  some  deadly  flower,  that  I  might  pluck 
And  crush  thy  petals  for  my  soul  to  eat. 

Sometimes  I  love  thee  so  I  wish  thee  dead. 
I  would  devour  thy  being  as  my  bread; 

Would  drain  thy  hidden  veins  dry,  as  of  wine, 
Red  drop  by  drop,  for  all  my  heart  has  bled! 

Oh !  I  have  bought  in  lonely,  endless  nights 
My  fill  of  thee  who  art  all  strange  delights  — 

8 


The  thrill  of  roses,  and  the  viol's  cry, 
The  pang  of  the  earth-passion's  awful  rites. 

And  I  am  jealous  of  the  very  light 

That  bares  thy  beauty  from  the  veil  of  night: 

Deep  in  the  dungeon  of  my  sombre  soul 
Thy  body  I  would  bury  out  of  sight. 

Oh,  kill  me  with  thy  kisses!     Drain  me  dry 
Of  pain  and  life,  nor  leave  me  breath  to  sigh; 

Yea,  feed  my  spirit,  starving  at  thy  lips, 
Thy  sweet  perfidious  poison  ere  I  die! 

Bury  me  deep  beyond  all  isolate  pains 

In  the  dim  shadows  of  thy  thralling  veins; 

That  nevermore  may  there  be  sound  of  me. 
Or  colour  of  me  in  all  the  earth  contains. 

I  then  shall  have  no  being  save  in  thine: 
My  love  shall  mingle  with  thy  blood  as  wine 

Mingles  with  water,  and  thy  wanton  soul 
Shall  never  know  a  life  apart  from  mine. 

Give  me  to  drink  the  poison  of  thy  breast  — 
Dark  cruel  wine  from  grapes  of  passion  pressed  — 

Till  I  am  drunk  beyond  delirium's  dream 
In  that  dim  utter  deep  where  men  may  rest. 

There  is  a  crevice  in  Love's  garden  wall 

Where  mandrakes  thrive,  with  lilies  rank  and  tall; 

Where  stealthy  Death  peers  through  a  purple  veil 
In  madmen's  eyes,  and  strange  worms  crawl  and  crawl, 

9 


I  gave  my  lover  tears  and  sacrifice. 

My  soul's  white  prayer,  my  dreams  of  paradise. 

The  vision   of  my  guardian  angel's   face: 
He  laughed  and  turned  away  his  weary  eyes. 

I  gave  my  lover  kisses  bitter-sweet, 

Strange  deadly  blossoms  for  his  soul's  defeat, 

The  purple  paths  of  hell  I  lured  him  on: 
His   lips  burn  fiercely  on  my  tear-stained  feet. 

The  thorny  rose  of  Love  has  one  last  sting 
Tipped  with  a  poison  strange  and  maddening. 

Who  grasps  it  close  shuns  not  the  touch  of  Death: 
To  love  and  loathe  the  self-same  lovely  thing. 

My  lover  whispers  lies  into  my  ear; 

My  listening  soul  laughs  silently  to   hear, — 

The  still,  ironic  laughter  of  the  tomb, 
Of  merry  skulls  that  grin  from  ear  to  ear. 

She  wore  a  lily  in  her  golden  hair  — 

That  Azra  —  on  the  day  Love  found  her  fair. 

Oh !  I  shall  dread  the  lilies  till  I  die. 
And  tremble  at  their  perfume  on  the  air. 

I  hang  upon  Love's  shoulder  worship-wise. 
Lost  in  the  dreamy  glamour  of  his  eyes; 

With  far-off  meditative   gaze  he  asks  — 
If  I  have  seen  how  blue  are  Azra's  eyes! 


10 


I  lie  alone  under  the  mocking  sky. 

The  midnight  hours  indifferently  walk  by. 

O  wanton  Moon !     You  turn  your  back  on  me, 
To  gaze  and  smile  where  Love  and  Azra  lie! 

For  we  must  laugh  if  we  would  hold  our  place 
In  Nature's  pitiless,  capricious  grace. 

He  who  desires  to  dally  with  the  moon 
Must  never  come  with  tears  upon  his  face. 

No  desert  waste  is  lonelier  than  I. 

The  arid  pain  of  Love  has  burned  me  dry. 

But  passion's  prayers  turn  backward  on  my  lips  — 
I  will  not  be  Love's  beggar  though  I  die! 

My  false  Love  may  seek  pleasure  where  he  will, 
While  I  my  separate  destiny  fulfil  — 

Grinding  my  soul  against  the  adamant 
Of  self,  whose  dust  obscures  my  vision  still. 

But  of  this  Azra  nothing  shall  remain 
More  than  of  last  year's  lilies   or  its  rain, 

Except  her  strange  name  echoing  through  my  song 
Immortal  with  the  laurels  of  my  pain. 

My  lover  left  me  —  and  I  shed  no  tears  I 
Across  the  world  I  wonder  if  he  hears 

The  laughter  of  my  soul  at  her  own  grief. 
Low  pallid  laughter  —  sadder  than  all  tears! 


11 


We  have  a  bitter  power  who  laugh  at  pain, 
Who  laugh  and  laugh  —  for  tears  are  shed  in  vain. 
They  weary  lovers  and  amuse  the  gods: 

0  tender  thought  to  soothe  the  reeling  brain! 

1  felt  thine  essence  quivering  like  wine 

Through  all  my  veins,  that  leaped  to  answer  thine  — 

Our   spirits   fusing  in    a   flash   of   flame  — 
The  day  I  bought  thy  soul  and  blood  with  mine. 

When  thou  art  false,  my  Love,  I  know  full  well 
There  is   no  truth  —  this   side  the   gate   of  hell, 

No  little  lily  soul  unstained  by  lies. 
No  sphere  of  beauty  not  an  empty  shell. 

Is  there  no  anodyne  despair  may  buy. 

No  draught  of  dreamless  sleep   for  such  as  I? 

Discordant  singer  in  the  choir  of  Love, 
Who  neither  cares  to  live  nor  dares  to  die. 

How  many  minutes  are  there  in  a  day? 
Love's  restless  watchers  know,  and  only  they: 

The  clock  ticks,  and  the  quivering  nerves  are  strained 
For  sound  of  steps  —  that  never  come  their  way. 

If  women  really  die  and  bum  in  hell. 

They  do  not  burn  vdth  fire  —  the  prophet's  hell. 

No!     But  they  wait,  and  wait,  and  wait,  and  wait^ 
For  one  who  never  comes  —  the  woman's  hell. 


12 


Thy  vacant  room  is  an  enchanted  place; 
Thy  wraith  pervades  the  air  that  I  embrace; 

The  perfume  of  thy  presence  lingers  still 
About  the  pillow  where  I  lay  my  face. 

I  touch  thy  garments  lightly,  half  afraid, 
So  ghostly  are  they  in  the  teeming  shade. 

The   candle   flickers,  like  a   frightened  soul, 
Before  the  little  altar  where  we  prayed. 

The  stars  are  not  so  lonely  as  my  heart! 
Though  I  should  scale  the  cruel  cliffs  of  Art 

And  cut  my  name  into  their  granite  face  — 
Love's  way  and  mine  would  lie  as   far  apart. 

The  pain  of  Love  has  poisoned  all  the  day. 
Pitiless  Love,  that  lures  but  to  betray! 
And  pitiless  the  whisper  of  the  soul: 
Like  songs  and  worlds,  this  too  shall  pass  away. 

Life  plays  us  mortals  many  a  strange  jest: 
Dead  leaves  and  grave-dew  crown  our  aching  quest, 
And  when  Love  comes  to  cheer  us  by  the  way  — 
Always  the  one  wq  love  not,  loves  us  best. 

Only  the  Lord  of  Change  has  endless  sway. 
The  vanished   Love  of  our  dead   yesterday 

Now  wanders  wailing  down  the  woods  of  dream. 
And  mocking  shadows  beckon  where  we  lay. 


13 


The  world's  poor  travesty  of  Love  stalks  by, 
Linked  arm  ip  arm  with  Death  —  a  smiling  lie ! 

Its  empty  words  and  empty  laughter  bring 
The  tears  of  pity  to  the  lover's  eye. 

Deep  Love  is  slow  of  speech  and  void  of  art; 
Silence  and   timid  tears   reveal  his   heart. 

But  shallow  Love  is  ever  eloquent 
To  mouth  his  meagre  passion  —  and  depart. 

Ye  who  would  know  how  sweet  a  thing  is  Love, 
Go  ask  the  souls  outside  the  pale  of  Love  — 

The  pallid  priest,  the  love-mocked  Magdalen  — 
They  also  know  how  bitter  a  thing  is  Love, 

O  silent  watcher  of  the  mystic  fire! 
When  to  your  hidden  temple  I  retire 

To  still  my  soul,  between  your  eyes  and  mine 
Falls  like  a  veil  the  shadow  of  Desire. 

And  oh,  the  pity  of  that  piercing,  vain 
Delight,  that  fills  again  and  yet  again 

The  hollow  world  with  little  yearning  souls  — 
Swelling  the  awful  sum  of  mortal  pain! 

Pale  passion  and  red  hatred  strove  with  me. 

And  dark  pride  strove,  pain,  and  gaunt  jealousy; 

Strove  till  they  all  lay  dead  one  stormy  day. 
My  soul,  surprised,  awoke  to  find  her  free! 


14 


But  I  am  weary  and  I  long  to  sleep. 

The  hungry  flame  of  Love  has  burned  so  deep 

Into  the  tender  substance  of  my  life, 
I  care  no  more  either  to  laugh  or  weep. 

How  heavy  is  the  earth's  heart  as  it  hears 
Ever  the  dropping,  dropping  of  Love's  tears! 

Must  not  those  bitter,  murmuring  waters  drown 
The  choral  harmonies  of  kindred  spheres.-^ 

The  cool  white  flower  of  peace  must  bloom  for  me 
Somewhere  between  the  mountain  and  the  sea: 
The  sea  in  whose  wide  bed  I  may  not  rest. 
The  mountain  whose  austerities  I  flee. 

Oh,  for  the  pure  oblivion  of  sleep! 

In  those  vast  waters  I  would  sink  me  deep 

Beyond  where  both  desire  and  dream  lie  dead. 
And  passion  and  despair  forget  to  weep. 

Death  hides  no  hell  that  could  awake  my  fear. 
For  I  have  heard  the  sound  that  madmen  hear. 

Heard  the  far  wail  of  a  crushed,  tortured  thing  — 
My  own  strayed  soul,  and  seen  it  disappear! 

Who  dares  to  love  unloved  the  cord  unties 
In  whose  close  coils  the  fettered  spirit  lies; 

The  jealous  gods  blush  and  evade  his  glance. 
And  joy  and  pain  are  equally  his  prize. 


15 


He  loves  me  not,  and  all  the  world   is  grey. 
But  I   am  wiser  now   than  yesterday! 

If  he  had  laid  life's  roses  in  my  lap  — 
I  never  should  have  known  the  world  was  grey. 

The  sun  has  dried  the  tear-drops  in  my  eyes. 
The  sturdy  wind  has  blown  away  my  sighs. 

While  the  sun  laughs,  I  am  ashamed  to  weep; 
And  the  wind  is  old  and  knows  all  sorrow  dies. 

Now  will  I  sing  my  song,  that  not  in  vain 
Shall  be  my  passage  through  the   fiery  rain, — 

A  song  of  light,  for  the  world's  heart  would  break 
If  I  should  sing  the  story  of  my  pain. 

The  distillation  from  Love's  bleeding  heart 
Is  the  rose-attar  of  the  lyric  mart; 

And  Pain  and  Passion  are  the  sentinels 
That  double-guard  the  jealous  doors  of  Art. 

Poor  lover,  writhing  in  the  lonely  night, 
Thy  vale  of  hell  leads  to  a  solemn  height: 

Who  dares  the  fire,  and  gains  the  farther  side, 
Walks  with  the  sons  of  God  in  the  great  light. 

Ye  who  would  know  Love's  highest  reach  of  bliss  — 
The  still,  white  peaks  of  peace  —  remember  this : 

Before  a  soul  can  face  that  steady  light 
It  must  have  plumbed  pain's  nethermost  abyss. 


16 


I  sought  my  soul  in  joy  —  she  was  not  there. 
Vainly  I  sought  her  too  in  toil  and  prayer. 

At  last  I  found  her  with  illumined  eyes 
Walking  the  rainbow  of  my  Love's  despair. 


17 


II 

LYRICS  AND  SONNETS 


THE  BRIDE  OF  THE  OVERMAN 

Oh,  do  not  remember  these  womanly  tears 

That  I  shed  on  your  wondering  face! 
They  are  drops   from  the  wells  of  unspeakable  fears 
That  lurk  in  the  cavernous  dusk  of,  dead  years 

Awaiting  a  time  and  a  place, — 

Fears   of  old  memories  clamouring  still 

For  a  glance  of  my  soul  or  a  sign; 
And  they  mock  at  the  feeble  and  passionate  will 
That  would  render  immortal  the  touch  and  the  thrill 

Of  a  man's  clinging  lips  upon  mine. 

Swearing  fidelity  far  beyond  death. 

The  presumptuous  children  of  clay 
Would  make  love's  ideal  a  loud  shibboleth, 
When  everything  under  the  law  of  the  Breath 

May  claim  but  the  hour  and  the  day. 

O  lover  as  wise  as  the  magi  of  old ! 

You  have  given  me  rapture  more  vast 
Than  God's  dream  of  creation;  and  yet  we  are  told 
That  the  mightiest  passion  must  some  day  lie  cold 

In  the  bottomless  gulf  of  the  past. 

And  our  love  —  nay  Beloved,  regard  not  the  tears. 

Or  kiss  them  away  if  you  will  — 
Our  love  shall  be  wide  as  the  sweep  of  the  spheres. 
And  free  as  the  music  the  Overman  hears 

In  his  cave  on  the  crown  of  the  hill. 
21 


But  sometimes,  I  know,  at  the  terror  night  brings 

In  this  land  without  pathway  or  mark, 
I  shall  cling  to  your  hand  as  a  little  child  clings, 
Lest  your  candle  go  out  in  the  wind  from  God's  wings. 
And  leave  me  alone  with  the  shadowless  things 
In  the  emptiness  under  the  dark. 

I  KNOW 

Oh!  I  know  why  the  alder  trees 
Lean  over  the  reflecting  stream; 

And    I   know    what   the   wandering   bees 
Heard  in  the  woods  of  dream. 

I  know  how  the  uneasy  tide 

Answers  the  signal  of  the  moon. 

And  why  the  morning-glories  hide 
Their  eyes  in  the  forenoon. 

And  I  know  all  the  wild  delight 
That  quivers  in  the  sea-bird's  wings. 

For  in  one  little  hour  last  night 
Love  told  me  all  these  things. 

THE    MESSENGER 

O  PALE  pressed  flower 
That  has  crossed  the  world-wide  sea 
From  my  Orient-wandering  Love 
With  words  for  me! 
22 


Frail  messenger 
Of  a  dream  that  does  not  die, 
Though  all  the  threads   of  life 
Be  drawn  awry! 

Your  Asian  stem 
Drew  from  that  storied  earth 
The  essences  that  gave 
The  pale   Christ  birth. 

Beauty  and  faith, 
And  a  something  all  unknown. 
On  your  sweet  and  subtle  breath 
To  me  are  blown. 


Give  you,  he  says. 

Soft  kisses   and   send  you  back 

To  his  tent  where  the  world's  way  joins 

The  pilgrim's  track. 

O  flower!  tell  him 
These  messages  for  me: 
Tell  him  there  lies  the  old  haze 
Over  the  sea. 

Tell  him  the  path 
To  the  little  house  and  lawn 
Is  overgrown  with  grass 
Now  he  is  gone. 


Tell  him  the  vine 

On  the  arbour  is  bare  of  leaves; 

Now  it  has  nothing  to  hide 

It  pines  and  grieves. 

Tell  him  the  star 
That  recorded  our  bridal  vow 
In  the  book  of  the  summer  dark 
Is  shining  now. 

Tell  him  the  crows 

In  the  pine-tree  still  arise 

To  challenge  the  wraith  of  dawn 

With  warning  cries. 

Tell  him  the  glass 

That  used  to  mirror  the  sea 

And  our  twined  forms  now  mirrors 

Only  the  sea. 

Give  him  these  tears. 
And  tell  him  the  golden  heart 
Of  the  rose  of  life   grows  grey 
When  lovers  part. 


24 


OUT  OF  THE  PAST 

Somewhere,  Love,  in  the  far-off,  time-veiled  days  of 

the  great  past, 
Thou  and  I  and  the  beautiful  Love-god  danced  in  the 

sunshine. 
Somewhere,  too,  as  the  night  dew  lay  on  the  leaves  of 

the  jungle. 
Thou   didst  whisper  me  softly  the  unknown  mystical 

Word. 

Under  thy  languorous  eyelids,  dark  as  the  doors  of  the 

future. 
Strange   dreams,   wild   dreams,   beckon   my   rapt   soul. 

Oh,  to  allay  my 
Fever  and  longing  there  in  the  midnight  pools  of  the 

lotus. 
Losing  myself  and  the  world  in  the  brooding  embrace 

of  thine  eyes! 

Thy  dark  hair  is  a  veil  of  the  Mystery.     Under  the 

shadows  — 
Purple  with   Orient  heat,   deep   sultriness  —  something 

is  hidden, 
Something  my  lone  soul  needs.     Though  it  yield  to  the 

touch  of  my  fingers. 
Still  it   eludes   my   sight   while  maddening  me  to   the 

quest. 


25 


Thy  touch,  Love,  is  the  sun's  touch,  pure  as  the  breath 

of  the  morning; 
Thy  touch,  Love,  is  the  bite  of  the  fire  —  unassuagable 

passion ; 
Under  thy  hand  or  thy  hot  lips  —  aye,  in  the  cling  of 

thy  garments  — 
Ecstasy  waits,  pain  hides,  power  quivers  to  move  me 

to  Hfe. 

Through  thine  eyes  I  am  one  with  the  deathless  One  of 

the  ages. 
Thy  strong  hold  is  the  life-hold,  firm  with  the  urge  of 

creation. 
Under  thy  spell  Time  listens  and  stirs  not;  there  the 

immortal 
Silence  pauses  to  drink  of  the  rushing  river  of  joy. 

Where  did  I  lose  thee?  Where  in  the  garden  of  devi- 
ous byways, 

Love,  did  we  loosen  our  hands?  Oh,  hold  me  close  and 
forever ! 

So  the  celestial  Gardener  may  not  distinguish  between 
us. 

So  we  appear  to  His  eyes  one  rose  on  the  tree  of  the 
world. 


26 


MATE 

There  is  a  wistful  prayer 
That  often  comes  to  me, 

And  lays  its  face  against  my  face 
In  utter  ecstasy  — 

That  all  the  lovers  in  the  world 
Might  be  as  near  as  we! 


THE  SYMBOL 

Thy  love  is  a  symbol,  a  mystical  sign 

Of  vast,  unuttered  things; 
The  bread  and  the  sacramental  wine 
Of  my  faith  I  receive  at  Love's  veiled  shrine 

In  all  thy  ministerings. 

Thy  love  is  my  dream  in  the  mortal  night, 

A  web  by  the  earth-moth  spun, 
A  veil  for  the  unendurable  Light; 
It  softens  the  blaze  for  my  frail  sight 

Of  the  immanent  unseen   Sun. 

Thy  love  is  realisation's  hour. 

High  noon  on  the  disc  of  life; 
The  sands  of  its  time  are  the  sands  of  power 
In  the  glass  of  Fate,  round  whose  watch-tower 
The  cosmic  winds  are  at  strife. 
27 


Thy  love  is  the  promise  of  keener  bliss 

Than  earth-dazed  beings  feel; 
The  rush  of  its  blood  is  the  flaming  kiss 
Of  stars  on  the  edge  of  the  great  abyss 

Where  form  and  spirit  reel. 

Thy  love  is  a  danger  beyond  all  fear, 

A  rift  in  the  fathomless  void; 
From  its  perilous  deep  strange  faces  peer. 
And  pale  hands  beckon  to  some  far  sphere 

Where  self  shall  be  destroyed. 

Thy  love  is  the  peace  of  eternity, 

The  rest  that  follows  birth; 
The  fold  of  thine  arms  is  the  fold  of  the  sea. 
And  they  hold  and  soothe  and  cradle  me 

As  the  ocean  holds  the  earth. 


A  MAIDEN 

"Give  me  Love,  O  Life,"  I  cried, 

"  Give  me  Love,  though  naught  beside ! 

I  would  know  the  way  he  wanders. 
For  the  world  is  wide." 

Then  I  found  him  at  my  side. 
For  my  prayer  was  not  denied; 

And  the  narrow  world  has  nowhere 
For  my  heart  to  hide! 
28 


'A  YEAR  AGO 

How  strange  it  seems  that  one  brief  year  ago 
Indifferently  I  watched  you  passing  by, 
Nor  dreamed  that  in  your  half-averted  eye 

Love's  universe  was  mirrored!     Even  so 

Bloom  lilies  by  the  stream  whose  overflow 

Shall  sweep  them  from  their  moorings,  and  untie 
Their  roots  from  the  home  soil.     A  bee  may  fly 

To  windward  of  a  rose-bush  and  not  know. 

With  all  his  hidden  wisdom.  Love  is  blind! 

You  were  the  messenger  of  Destiny 
That  paused  before  my  dwelling  undivined. 

A  year  ago  your  spirit  was  for  me 
The  pearl  a  diver  risks  his  life  to  find  — 

And  passes  in  the  darkness  of  the  sea. 

HAUNTED 

What  is  that  sound  on  the  wind,  my  Love, 

That  little  wail  of  fright? 
Is  it  the  cry  of  a  lone  lost  dove 
Somewhere  up  in  the  boughs  above 

Our  window  this  wild  night.'' 

What  is  that  shadow  along  the  wall 

That  wavers  and  is  still? 
It  is  very  faint  and  very  small 
To  fill  my  soul  with  this  weird  appal. 

This  weight  of  unknown  ill. 
29 


O  Love,  there  are  fingers  upon  my  hair, 

And  yours  are  fast  in  mine! 
Is  it  a  breath  of  the  midnight  air 
That  blows  on  my  forehead  and  lingers  there? 

Or  is  it  a  ghostly  sign? 

Gather  me  close  in  your  strong  arms.  Dear, 

And  hold  me  tenderly; 
For  I  dare  not  whisper  the  thing  I  fear. 
Unless  I  feel  you  near  —  Oh,  near  — 

To  the  throbbing  heart  of  me! 

It  is  not  a  shadow  that  wavers  there. 

Nor  a  dove  that  moans  in  pain. 
Nor  a  breath  of  the  night  wind  on  my  hair: 
'Tis  the  pilgrim  Soul  from  the  realm  of  air 
That  knocked  at  our  door  in  vain! 


SONG  OF  KRISHNA 

I  AM  all  things,  and  I  lie  in  thine  arms ! 

Thou  dost  embrace  in  me  Time  and  the  measure  of 

Time, 
The  thrill  of  all  joy,  and  the  rush  of  the  stars  through 

the   outermost  virginal  void. 

I  am  Love  that  binds,  and  I  am  the  great  Unbinder. 
Life  has  no  gifts  that  my  hands  do  not  scatter. 
And  darkness  is  the  shadow  of  mine  eyelids. 

80 


Beauty  burns  in  her  veil  for  the  vision  of  those  I  em- 
brace. 
When  I  whisper  to  my  Love  in  the  stillness. 
Somewhere  on  earth  a  musician  hears  divine  harmony. 
Somewhere  a  flower  opens. 

I  will  not  leave  thee,  for  without  me  there  is  nothing; 

When  thou  feelest  the  touch  of  thy  friend  in  the  night- 
time, know  I  am  there; 

When  in  the  rush  of  the  great  waters  terror  comes  nigh 
thee,  know  I  am  there. 

All  lovers  are  only  the  promise  of  me. 

And  what  are  all  lovers  beside  me? 


YOU 

Through  you  the  beauty  of  the  world  lies  bare. 

I  feel  the  breeze  like  God's  breath  on  my  face 
Whispering  an  unknown  word  —  and  everywhere 

I  see  the  vision  of  a  love-lit  face. 

So  strange  it  seems!     A  little  while  ago 
I  knew  not  any  of  these  lovely  things; 

To  all  my  dreams  the  demons  answered  no, 
Darkening  the  daylight  with  their  evil  wings. 

Tell  me,  Beloved,  for  your  words  are  wise. 
How  do  you  hold  all  beauty  in  your  hand. 

And  all  the  host  of  heaven  in  your  eyes. 
And  in  your  hours  the  moons  of  fairyland? 
31 


You  pass  my  threshold,  and  the  narrow  room 
Is  peopled  with  the  tenuous  forms  of  air, 

The  barren  boughs  of  faith  are  all  abloom, 
And  I  am  mute  with  wonder  and  with  prayer. 


THE  VERGE 

Oh,  tell  me,  traveller,  I  pray, 
Where  my  slain  love  lies  dead! 

My  soul  has  wandered  up  and  down. 
By  grief  and  terror  led. 

But  found  no  token  save  the  drops 
Her  own  bruised  feet  have  bled. 

Along  the  cypress-shaded  way 
Strange  shadows  come  and  go; 

The  ghosts  of  all  love's  buried  hours 
Walk  with  me,  pale  and  slow; 

But  I  would  rather  go  alone. 
Because  they  beckon  so. 

Further  I  fare  along  the  road; 

But  there  is  nothing  here 
Save  empty  spaces,  and  the  glooms 

Where  grope  weird  shapes  of  fear  — 
The  grim,  mad  phantoms  of  the  mind 

That  stare  and  mock  and  leer. 


32 


Somewhere  there  is  an  awful  place 
Where  all  dead  things  lie  cold; 

Prayers,   passions    and    forgotten  tears. 
Kisses,  and  lies  long  told. 

Shame,  soft  caresses,  sleep  and  faith, — 
They  all  lie  there  and  mould. 

There  love  may  lie.     But  my  tired  feet 

Will  never  find  the  way. 
They  falter.     The  Lethean  waves 

Lap  round  them  cold  and  grey. 
In  those  dead  waters  let  me  rest 

Until  the   Judgment  Day! 


SOMETIME 

Sometime  the  Spring  will  come  with  softer  green 
Than  ever  dared  to  touch  the  world  before; 

Sometime  the  Guest  my  soul  has  never  seen 
Will  pass  the  threshold  of  my  waiting  door. 

Sometime  the  passion  of  my  book  of  song 

Will  face  me  in  the  eyes  of  Destiny; 
Sometime  the  Question  I  have  asked  so  long 

Of  the  slow  stars,  will  turn  and  answer  me. 

A  sail,  now  tossing  on  the  sea  of  dreams. 

Sometime  will  rest  in  the  broad  port  of  waking; 

Sometime  the  Weaver,  that  now  idle  seems. 

Will  show  some  splendid  fabric  of  her  making. 
S3 


There  lies  a  light  upon  the  peaks  of  faith 

That  makes  my  heart  beat  faster  as  I  climb; 

And  wistfully  before  me  floats  a  wraith  — 

The  Presence  that  will  walk  with  me  sometime. 


HE     WHO     KNOWS     LOVE 

He  who  knows  Love  —  becomes  Love,  and  his  eyes 
Behold  Love  in  the  heart  of  everyone. 
Even  the  loveless:  as  the  light  of  the  sun 

Is  one  with  all  it  touches.     He  is  wise 

With  undivided  wisdom,  for  he  lies 

In  Wisdom's  arms.     His  wanderings  are  done, 
For  he  has  found  the  Source  whence  all  things  run 

The  guerdon  of  the  quest,  that  satisfies. 

He  who  knows  Love  becomes  Love,  and  he  knows 
All  beings  are  himself,  twin-born  of  Love. 

Melted  in  Love's  own  fire,  his  spirit  flows 
Into  all  earthly  forms,  below,  above; 

He  is  the  breath  and  glamour  of  the  rose. 
He  is  the  benediction  of  the  dove. 


LOVE'S  PARADOX 

The  tears  of  hopeless  love  are  bitter-sweet; 
Its  cruel  rocks  that  tear  the  lover's  feet 

To  him  are  dearer  than  the  flower-strewn  ways  — 
The  careless  ways  where  youth  and  pleasure  meet. 
64 


IN  A  WOMAN'S  EYES 

Last  night  I  walked  with  Love  along  the  world. 
The  crowded  world,  so  strange  to  Love  and  me. 
The  freighted  sphere,  that  through  the  starry  sea 

To  some  uncharted  port  is  blindly  whirled. 

I  walked  with  Love,  our  faces  luminous 

With  that  unearthly  light  which  lovers  throw 
Around  their  presence.     Passing  to  and  fro. 

The  hurrying  people  paused  to  look  at  us. 

But  in  one  woman's  eyes  there  blazed  red  hate 
For  me, —  a  little  woman  like  a  dove, 
Drooping  and  timid,  who  once  walked  with  Love 

Up  to  the  very  entrance  of  Life's  gate; 

But  feared  to  lift  its  latch  of  destiny. 

And  feared  to  tread  upon  the  sacred  ground 

Of  that  sweet  grove  where  Love  and  I  have  found 

The  budding  rose-tree  of  Infinity. 

Her  blue  eyes  burned  down  to  my  startled  soul. 
Then  Love  and  I  passed  on  into  the  wide 
Compassionate  solitude  where  we  abide. 

Where  Peace  has  conquered  Pain,  and  crowns  his  goal. 

But  through  Love's  eyes  those  sad  eyes  gazed  in  mine 
Till  dawn,  not  blazing  now  but  dim  with  weeping; 
And  Love  and  I  —  a  mystic  vigil  keeping  — 

Watched  with  her  spirit  in  its  tear-lit  shrine. 

35 


O  little  sister!  at  your  door  to-day 

There  waits  a  love  you  would  not  understand; 

As  if  you  were  my  child  in  some  dead  land 
To  whose  long  memories  I  have  lost  my  way. 

Or  is  it  all  a  dream?     And  from  Love's  heart  — 
Being  so  blended  with  him  —  do  I  gain 
This  comprehension  of  an  alien  pain, 

A  shadow  in  whose  form  I  have  no  part? 


THE  WISDOM  OF  THE  ROSE 

Do  not  wound  me  or  I  die, 

O  my  Rose !  "  I  heard  him  cry ; 

**  Cover  all  thy  thorns  with  soft  leaves, 
Lest  thy  lover  sigh." 

But  I  pressed  my  sharpest  thorn 
Deep  into  his  heart  that  morn; 

Though  the  pain  I  felt  him  suffer 
Left  me,  too,  all  torn. 

And  he  died,  as  he  had  said, 
Desolate,  uncomforted. 

And  the  kind  old  earth,  our  Mother, 
Drank  the  drops  he  bled. 


86 


A  HIDDEN  CHORD 

A  GIRL  gazed  long  at  Love  in  going  by ; 
I  saw  the  great  light  shining  in  her  eye  — 

The  look  Love's  eyes  have  when  they  gaze  at  me. 
The  quick  tears  wet  my  cheek  —  I  wonder  why ! 


THE  PARTING  GUEST 

The  bright-winged  Eros  came  one  summer  day 
With  roses  for  us^  and  a  smiling  claim 
That  we  should  join  him  in  his  magic  game 

Of  making  golden  images  of  clay; 

Until  I  grew  aweary  of  his  play. 

Weary  and  burdened  with  a  secret  shame 
For  every  word  we  uttered  in  his  name: 

Now  I  am  glad  that  he  is  flown  away. 

Let  us  go  up,  dear,  to  the  wind-blown  hill; 

The  air  is  pure  there,  and  the  strong  pine-trees 
Laugh  in  the  light.     .     .     .     Seems  the  sheer  height 
too  chill? 

Nay,  draw  thy  mantle  close.     In  hours  like  these 
The  valley-dweller  hears,  when  all  is  still. 

The  far-off  roar  of  the  eternal  seas. 


87 


PETIT  AMOUR 

There  was  a  little  love  all  lily-pale. 

Too  fair  and  white  to  breast  life's  bitter  gale. 

It  died,  as  little  loves  are  wont  to  die, — 
A  gnat's  death  weighed  as  much  in  the  Great  Scale! 


THE  SPECTRE 

Out  of  the  deep  where  dim-remembered  years 
And  buried  loves  await  Time's  sure  intent, 
Rises  the  spectre  of  that  far  event 

Which  taught  the  master-mystery  of  tears 

To  my  expectant  heart.     How  strange  appears 
That  face,  which  my  imagination  lent 
The  beauty  of  God,  till  —  rapt  and  confident  — 

My  soul  forgot  her  heritage  of  fears! 

Since  last  I  looked  in  those  illusive  eyes. 
My  spirit  in  the  lake  of  lustral  flame 

Has  been  washed  white  of  everything  that   dies 
In  pain.     And  though  this  end  was  not  an  aim 

He  laboured  toward,  my  freed  life  testifies 

Its  debt  to  him  for  power,  and  love,  and  fame. 


38 


SISTERHOOD 

Sister,  the  world  would  deem  me  a  strange  thing 
To  love  the  former  love  of  my  heart's  king; 

But  jealous  self  bows  to  the  mystic  bond  — 
We  two  have  drunk  deep  of  one  sacred  spring! 


THE  BEGGAR 

In  the  dim  years  before  I  met  with  you 

I  dreamed  how  Love  one  day  would  come  to  me, 

A  plumed  knight,  who  on  his  bended  knee 

His  sovereign  lady  would  acclaim  and  woo; 

And  I  should  hold  his  homage  as  my  due. 
With  smiling  pride  elude  him,  nor  agree 
Too  readily  to  listen  to  his  plea. 

Though,  as  I  dreamed,  his  every  word  was  true. 

Then  came  the  night  I  looked  into  your  eyes     .     . 

O  love  that  burns  and  memory  that  sears ! 
I  am  no  longer  proud,  though  strangely  wise 

In  the  dark  lore  of  ecstasy  and  tears, — 
A  starving  beggar  at  your  knees,  who  cries 

For  bread  to  dull  the  yearning  of  the  years. 


UACABEMISTE 

A  LEARNED  fool  discovered  Love  one  day, 
And  sought  to  demonstrate  his  tyrant  sway 

In  dull  iambics.     While  the  muses  yawned. 
Love  laughed  —  and  shook  his  wings  —  and  flew  away ! 


THE  STAFF 

*TwAs  long  ago,  with  fasting  and  with  prayer, 
I  cut  my  pilgrim  staff  from  the  great  tree 
Of  sacrifice,  and  it  has  been  with  me 

In  all  my  wandering.     Rugged  and  bare. 

And  dry  as  ancient  stone,  up  the  steep  stair  — 
The  winding  granite  stair  of  destiny  — 
The  staff  has  gone  beside  me  steadily. 

Aye,  urged  me  on  under  the  load  of  care. 

But  yesterday  the  beauty  of  the  Spring 

Trembled  through  all  my  being,  and  I  leaned 

Upon  my  staff  —  to  feel  it  quivering; 

To  see  that  its  whole  rigid  length  had  greened, 
Had  grown  all  tender  with  soft  buds,  that  screened 

The   eyes   of  Love.     .     .     .     And   then   I   heard   him 
sing! 


40 


AT  MIDNIGHT 

There  is  a  nagging  nettle  in  my  bed, 

And  wayward  Sleep   goes  by  with  careless  tread: 

To-night  I  saw  a  shadow  on  Love's  face, 
To  haunt  me  for  those  idle  words  I  said. 


LOVE'S  FEAR 

I  AM  afraid,  because  I  love  thee  so!  — 
Afraid  lest  the  inexorable  years 
Instruct  thee  in  the  pitiless  lore  of  tears  — 

Intimate  lore  I  mastered  long  ago. 

My  courage  falters  for  thee;  but  I  know 
Those  secret  drops  the  eyelids  of  all  seers 
Are  bitter  with,  before  the  way  appears 

Where  the  wise  lilies  of  compassion  grow. 

Dear,  I  shall  see  thee  stricken  with  despair. 

And  have  no  anodyne  to  ease  thy  pain. 
Nor  promise  of  an  answer  to  thy  prayer. 

For  we  invoke  the  Lord  of  Life  in  vain 
Who  plead  against  experience,  or  dare 

To  turn  aside  God's  arrow  —  though  Love  be  slain! 


41 


REQUIESCAT  IN  PACE 

When  Love  is  dead  —  why  stain  his  lips  with  lies ! 
Love  knows  no  rest,  no  honour  as  he  dies ; 

But  goaded  to  feign  joy  and  life,  he  wears 
The  world's  arraignment  in  his  weary  eyes. 


LOVE'S  TRAGEDY  AND  COMEDY 

Once  on  a  time  in  my  untutored  past, 
I  raised  an  altar  to  Love's  Tragedy 
And  covered  it  with  rue  and  rosemary; 

Then  with  sad  rapture  at  its  base  I  cast 

My  soul  in  dedication.     But  at  last 

Great  Love  himself  came  by  and  beckoned  me 
With  slow  indulgent  smile,  so  bold  and  free 

That  Tragedy  drew  down  her  veil  —  aghast. 

Behind  Love  came  a  being  robed  in  flowers  — 
Love's   Comedy,  with  summer  in  her  glance; 

The   laughing  sister  whose  transforming  powers 
Can  turn  life's  laggard  march  into  a  dance. 

With  Love  and  her  so  gaily  go  the  hours, 
I  bless  them  both  for  my  deliverance. 


I* 


WITHOUT  THE  TEMPLE 

Nay,  dear,  I  do  not  love  you  any  more! 
Put  out  the  altar  fire  and  close  the  door. 

Love's  holy  temple  that  we  built  for  him 
I  must  profane  not  —  now  I  love  no  more. 


WHEN  LOVE  COMETH  NOT 

The  hours  are  ages  when  Love  cometh  not. 

The  very  sunshine  stays  reservedly 

Outside  the  window,  and  the  vigilant  sea 
Booms  with  a  lagging  rhythm.     Storm  shadows  blot 
The  scroll  of  heaven;  while  the  uncertain  spot 

Of  substance  where  my  soul  waits,  seems  to  be 

A  desert  island  in  eternity. 
Washed  by  the  tides  of  time,  by  God  forgot. 

This  cruel  hour  will  pass,  and  I  shall  hear. 

Quivering,  Love's  eager  hands  upon  the  door     .     . 

Yet  there  might  come  a  cold,  inclement  year 
When  Love  would  not  avail  me  as  before. 

When  I  should  be  less  lovely  and  less  dear  — 
A  wind-blown  barque  upon  a  barren  shore! 


'4$ 


EVEN  AS  YOU  AND  I 

O  BROTHER  mine,  I  hear  strange  dole  of  you 
From  her  who  flatters  —  and  takes  toll  of  you ! 

She  must  lay  off  the  blinding  veil  of  Self 
To  see  the  strong,  true,  comrade  soul  of  you. 


THE  MURDERER 

To  them  that  murder  Love,  of  no  avail 
Shall  be  the  penance  of  a  thousand  years. 
At  every  midnight  to  my  soul  appears 

Upon  the  sea  of  sleep  a  spectral  sail. 

I  see  the  moonlight  wavering  and  pale 

On  the  remembered  face  of  him  that  steers. 
Deep  graven  with  the  ghosts  of  many  tears  — 

The  weariness  of  them  that  love  and  fail. 

And  when  in  the  dawn-twilight  cold  and  grey 
I  wake,  despair  and  emptiness  are  mine. 

Though  I  implore,  the  vision  will  not  stay; 
But  on  the  purple  dim  horizon  line 
There  lies  a  deeper  shadow,  for  a  sign 

That  in  the  night  a  soul  has  passed  that  way. 


m 


ROSE  OF  SHIRAZ 

My  lover  is  a  Mussulman^  'tis  said^ 

Whose  loves  are   strung  like   jewels   on  a  thread. 

I'd  rather  be  the  clasp  that  holds  the  string 
Than  shine  alone  on  any  other  head. 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  WANDERING  WOMAN 

Thou  hast  broken  my  soul  on  the  wheel. 
Thou  hast  drunk  of  my  sorrow  as  wine, 

Thou  hast  branded  my  brow  with  thy  seal. 
And  my  faith  thou  hast  hung  for  a  sign. 

Thou  hast  spilled  all  my  dreams  on  the  ground 

And  broken  the  strings  of  my  lyre, 
And  the  chords   of  my  being  are  bound 

By  memories  that  mock  at  desire. 

Thou  has  taught  me  the  knowledge  of  years 

In  a  day,  of  despair  I  am  wise ; 
Thou  hast  moistened  thy  bread  with  my  tears, 

And  groped  in  the  gloom  of  my  sighs. 

O  Beloved,  whose  breath  is  my  pain! 

Thy  shadow  has  darkened  the  world; 
For  thy  spirit  is  thunder  and  rain, 

And  thy  love  is  a  meteor  hurled. 


45 


But  thy  darkness  is  dearer  than  light. 

So  I  die,  and  my  cry  to  be  free 
Is  a  song  of  redemption  to  God  in  the  night 

For  the  sins   of  the  Tforld  and   of  me. 


MANY  ADVISERS 

O  Love,  I  care  not  whether  they  were  right  — 
The  cold  advisers,  or  the  words  they  said. 

When  in  the  teeming  silence  of  the  night 
I  hear  your  heart  throb  underneath  my  head ! 


IN  THE  DAWNLIGHT 

Beloved,  whose  garment  is  life. 

Whose  eyes  are  the  twin  wonders  of  light  and  the 
vision  of  light: 

Give  me  a  glimpse  behind  the  cosmical  veil  that  covers 
Thy  beauty. 

Make  palpable  to  me  a  touch  of  Thine  inscrutable  ten- 
derness. 

I  would  know  the  self-sufficiency  of  Thy  love. 

For  I  am  weary  of  all  Love's  demands  and  apologies. 

I  would  be  solitary  as  the  quiet  stars. 

Though  intimate  with  the  world  as  a  nursing  child 
with  its  mother. 

I  would  dream  to-day  on  the  orient  lake  with  the  lotus^ 


46 


I  would  strive  to-morrow  with  the  northern  pine  in  the 

tempest. 
In  the  morning  I  would  wander  alone  looking  for  the 

lost  Pleiad  in  the  vast  meadows  of  Taurus, 
I  would  swarm  in  the  afternoon  with  the  myriad  bees 

in  the  clover  meadows  of  Earth. 
I  would  mumble  prayers  with  the  pilgrims  on  the  road 

to  Mecca, 
I  would  laugh  with  the  children  of  joy  in  the  groves 

of  Bacchus. 

Deep  in  the  hearts  of  all  the  earth-kindred  are  secrets 

I  hunger  to  learn. 
When  I  hear  the  call  of  the  wild  bird  in  the  spring- 
time, 
There  stirs  in  me  the  vague  responsive  mate-longing 

of  the  woods. 
The  moody  look  in  the  eyes  of  the  caged  panther  fills 

me  with  fear; 
But  there  is  a  thought  in  his  brain  that  I  need  for  a 

marvellous  poem. 
And  I  shall  never  be  wise  till  I  understand  its  mean* 

ing. 
I  have  seen  in  the  eyes  of  a  dog  I  have  slighted  a  look 

that  shamed  me. 
The  dignity  of  the  love  that  waits  and  questions  not  — 

transcending  my  own  for  my  lover! 
I  would  be  friends  with  the  earthworm,  and  even  the 

robin  distrusts  me; 
There  is  something  known  to  the  squirrels  that  books 

have  never  taught  me, 

47 


But  when  I  question  them  they  always  run  away. 

And  the  silence  that  broods  in  the  sacred  aisles  of  the 

congregated  pine-trees  — 
Is  gone  with  the  sound  of  my  footsteps! 

But  somewhere  the  transcendent  Wonder  awaits  me  — 
The   vision    of   primordial   and    ultimate   Love    that   is 

hidden  in  the  dark  of  the  ages  before  and  after : 
It  but  awaits  the  destined  hour  to  make  me  one  with 

all  things. 
Will  the  revelation  come  to  me  in  the  eyes  of  my  lover? 
Will  it  come  in  the  symbols  of  a  dream,  haloed  around 

with  the  light  of  its  own  interpretation? 
Is  it  something  divine  that  shall  penetrate  and  possess 

me? 
Or  only  the  boundless  expansion  of  all  that  is  I? 


TWIN-SOULS 

T  AM  thy  fellow-spirit 

Who  journeyed  at  thy  side 
Before  the  Sphinx  was  builded. 

Before  Osiris  died. 

I  am  thy  soul's  companion 
Who  lost  thee  in  the  wave 

That  rose  when  old  Atlantis 
Went  down  to  her  sea-grave. 

48 


One  greater  than  great  Isis 
Joined,  with  a  rite  sublime, 

Thy  soul  and  mine  together 
In  the  far  dawn  of  time. 

When  to  thine  eyes  at  midnight 

The  tears  unbidden  start. 
And  vague  bewildered  longings 

Ache  in  thy  lonely  heart, 

Know  that  my  soul  is  calling 
Somewhere,  and  making  moan 

Unto  the  laggard  Future 
To  give  it  back  its  own. 

When  in  the  ghostly  twilight 

A   shadow  on  the   wall 
Sets  all  thy  nerves  aquiver  — 

*Tis  I,  who  mutely  call; 

And  when  the  passionate  springtime 
Renews  its  ancient  quest, 

I  am  the  vagrant  wonder 
That  trembles  in  thy  breast. 


49 


THE  BUNGLER 

I  MADE  a  man  out  of  my  own  great  need. 
I  took  the  body  of  one  ready-formed 
In  Nature's  workshop,  but  its  blood  I  warmed 

With  my  own  fire.     Half  of  my  soul  I  freed 

To  animate  the  form;  the  dream,  the  deed 

That  makes  man  godlike,  these  from  the  great  void 
I  conjured,  and  my  temple  veil  destroyed 

That  he  might  see  the  image  burn  and  bleed. 

But  when  I  questioned  this  created  thing. 

There  was  no  voice  to  answer;  for  the  breath 
Divine  I  had  not  given  —  could  not  give! 
Confounded  before  God,  I  only  bring 
Into  creation's  hall  this  masque  of  death. 

Which  wears  the  mould  of  life  but  does  not  live. 


SPRING-SONG  OF  THE  MINSTREL 

You  who  are  to  be  my  comrade 
Down  the  wide  road  of  the  world. 

Spring  is  come,  with  greening  banners 
On  the  loving  wind  unfurled. 

Though  the  way  ahead  is  rugged. 
Like  all  ways  that  we  have  trod, 

We  will  rest  us  every  evening 
In  the  leafy  tents  of  God. 
50 


We  will  leave  behind  life's  luggage, 

We  shall  only  need  a  lyre; 
We  will  robe  ourselves  in  sunbeams, 

Warm  us  at  the  lyric  fire. 

Earth's   possessions   are   so   heavy. 
They  would  hinder  us,  I   fear; 

For  our  feet  must  walk  the  rainbow 
As  it  swerves  from  sphere  to  sphere. 

Hark!     The  dewy  dawn  is  calling 
Us  to  take  the   sunward  way. 

Forward,  singing  wild,  free  music. 
Let  us  tramp  the  trail  of  day. 


THE  LOVE  OF  WOMAN 

Dear,  I  will  stand  beside  thee  to  the  end. 
Thy  loving  mate,  thy  comforter,  thy  friend. 

If  peace  and  plenitude  shall  bless  thy  ways, 
I  will  enjoy  them  with  thee  all  my  days. 

If  shame  and  sin  should  be  thy  bitter  lot. 
My  faith  will  cover  thee  and  question  not. 

If  thou  art  false  to  me,  then  I  will  say 
Thy  spirit  fell  asleep  that  cruel  day; 

But  thou  wilt  wake,  and  need  my  loving  care. 

So  I  will  watch  with  fasting  and  with  prayer. 

51 


THE  SLUMBERER 

0  THOU  mysterious  One  lying  asleep 
Within  the  lonely  chamber  of  my  soul! 
Thou  art  my  life's  true  goal, 

Thine  is  the  only  altar  that  I  keep. 
Rapt  in  the  contemplation  of  thy  repose, 

1  see  in  thy  still  face  that  Mystic  Rose 
Whose  perfume  is  my  soul's  imaginings. 
And  Beauty  at  whose  awesomeness  I  weep 
With  over-plenitude  of  ecstasy. 

Thy  slumber  is  the  great  world-mystery  — 

The  paradigm  of  all  the  latent  things 

That  in  their  destined  hour  Time  magnifies; 

Its  emblems  are  the  intimate  hush  that  lies 

Over  the  moonlit  lake; 

The  wonder  and  the  ache 

Of  unborn  love  that  trembles  in  its  sleep; 

The  hope  that  thrills  the  heavy  earth 

With  presage  of  becoming,  and  vast  birth; 

The  secret  of  the  caverns  of  the  deep. 


THE  VIOLIN 

I  HOLD  between  my  quivering  hands 

A  violin  new-strung. 
Wrought  of  a  master  builder's  love 

To  be  the  passionate  tongue 
Of  the  unseen,  to  utter  sounds 

Never  on  earth  yet  sung. 
52 


Mute  though  it  lies  and  musicless. 
My  breath  across  the  strings, 

Warm  with  the  love  that  bares  to  me 
The  mystic  soul  of  things, 

Wakens  the  slumbering  tones  and  stirs 
Melodious  murmurings. 

Dreamy  it  is  with  memories 

Of  that  reborn  desire 
That  in  this  fibre  buried  deep 

The  builder's  heart  of  fire. 
O  Violin!  the  magic  bow 

Is  all  the  gods  require, 

Out  of  the  silence  of  your  soul 
To  smite  the  rhythmic  flame 

Of  pain  and  rapture,  and  achieve 
The   indomitable   aim. 

Sounding  through  all  infinity 
The  demiurgic  Name. 

O  Violin,  my  violin! 

'Tis  fateful  to  command 
The  silences  to  utter  sound. 

The   wise    gods    understand 
When  I  would  lift  the  magic  bow 

Why  trembles  so  my  hand. 


58 


BY   THE   SEA 

Oh,  turn  your  dreamy  eyes  now  to  the  sea! 
Turn  them  a  moment,  dear,  away  from  me 

To  where  the  world,  to  our  self-bounded  sight. 
Begins  to  be. 

We  two  can  see  but  such  a  little  way! 
Although  the  sun  is  bright  for  us  to-day. 

What  lies  beyond  this  hour's  horizon  rim 
We  cannot  say. 

Perhaps  that  purple  speck  against  the  blue 
May   be  the  mast-head  of  some  ship  long  due 
From  destiny's  dim  port,  with  priceless  pearls 
For  me  and  you. 

Will  we  not  melt  the  purest  in  our  wine 
And  drink  the  draught  together,  for  a  sign 
Unto  the  gods  of  being  that  their  best 
Is  yours  and  mine? 

Or,  if  the  cargo  prove  but  common  dust. 
We  will  accept  it,  for  the  stars  are  just; 

And  we  will  make  a  road  of  it,  and  laugh  — 
As  brave  ones  must. 

Dear  heart,  I  have  no  easy  words  to  say 
The  many  things  that  I  have  felt  to-day 
Here  by  the  sea,  with  destiny  and  you 
And  life  at  play. 

54 


The  sand  around  us,  where  to  you  and  me 
The  world's  self-conscious  centre  seems  to  be. 

Is  like  that  far  unknown  horizon  rim 
To  those  at  sea. 

And  so  this  hour  that  sings  itself  away 
Was  on  our  life's  horizon  yesterday, 

Although  unknown  to  us  as  yonder  ship. 
As  seeming  grey. 

Oh,  turn  your  eyes  from  the  horizon,  dear! 

My  hands  are  trembling  as  the  ship  draws  near. 

Hold  them  and  tell  me  —  Love !  —  whether  it  be 
With  hope  or  fear. 

GOOD-BYE 

Dear,  we  have  made  Love's  fleeting  days 

Bewilderingly    sweet, 
But  now  the  world's  long,  lonely  ways 

Yearn  for  your  lingering  feet. 

Why   do   you  tarry   at   the   door 

And   gaze   at  me  with  tears  .f* 
Is   it  because   time   holds   no  more 

Years   like  our  vanished  years? 

Your  royal  gift  of  self  I  hold. 

Shrined  in  my  heart  and  brain; 
The  master-secret   you  have  told 

Me,  I  shall  tell  again. 
55 


And  on  that  unregarded  road 
That  you  will  travel  soon^ 

The  beauty  that  my  love  bestowed 
Shall  be  some  pilgrim's  boon. 

Justified  now  by  the  true  past 
And  trusting  truth  to  be, 

I  yield  you  to  the  future's  vast 
Inscrutable  decree. 


IN  THE  SOUL'S  HOUSE 

O  BRIGHT-WINGED  Lovc,  whosc  ways  are  mystery, 
Whose  hours  no  man  may  reckon!     I  have  swept 
And  burnished  my  soul's  house,  where  long  I  kept 

The  body  of  one  dead  and  hopelessly 

Gazed  at  the  flickering  candles  ranged  by  thee 
Around  his  head  and  feet.  But  I  who  wept, 
Now  weep  no  longer;  I  who  sadly  slept 

Under  the  pall,  have  burned  it  and  stand  free. 

And  I  have  climbed  the  stairs  of  the  high  tower 
That  looks  upon  the  sunrise.     Robed  in  white. 

My  spirit,  ever  virgin,  waits  the  hour 

When  thou.  Love,  the  dawn-wonder,  veiled  in  light, 

Shalt  touch  the  world  and  me  with  quickening  power. 
And  drive  all  dead  things  down  the  nether  night. 


56 


THE  COMING  OF  LOVE 

I  HAVE  sought  Love  all  my  days; 
Down  the  world's  long  dusty  ways 
I  have  listened  ifor  his  footsteps, 
I  have  sung  his  praise. 

I  have  offered  in  his  name 
Peace  and  solitude  and  fame 

On  my  spirit's  hidden  altar  — 
But  he  never  came. 

Sometimes    in   the   tenuous   night 
I  have  felt  the  still  delight 

Of   a  presence;   but  it  vanished 
With  the  morning  light. 

Till  I  wearied   of  the  quests 
Of  the  yearning  in  my  breast; 

And  I  whispered  to  my  lone  heart, 
"  Let  us  be  at  rest: 

**  Love's   unsullied  mystery 
Is  not  meant  for  thee  and  me; 

We  are  too  deep-stained  with  living  — 
It  could  never  be !  '* 

Then  before  I  was  aware 
Came  a  breath  across  my  hair. 

While  a  stillness  strange  and  reverent 
Held  the  waiting  air; 

57 


And  my  spirit^  strong  and  sweet. 
Rose  the  long-sought  guest  to  greet,  . 

Rose  —  then  bent  to  kiss  the  garment 
Round  his  shining  feet. 


SONG  OF  THE  MORTAL  SUN-BRIDE 

Thou  Supreme  One,  Lord  of  my  Lord, 

Thou  who  art  throned  in  the  centre  of  each  and  every 

thing. 
The  lights  of  whose  chamber  are  souls  that  keep  vigil. 
Be  merciful  unto  me  in  this  night  of  my  wakefulness 
And  leave  me  not  alone  with  my  own  moon-shadow. 

Leave  me  not  alone,  or  the  Dark  will  lay  its  hands 
upon  me! 

I  would  be  chaste  of  the  touch  of  the  hands  of  Dark- 
ness — 

I  whom  the  Lord  of  Light  held  as  a  spouse  this  day  in 
the  high  noon. 

While  Earth  lent  me  the  veil  of  her  own  bridal. 

And   Ocean   murmured  the   benediction  of  the  waters. 

On  this  night  of  wonder  I  would  not  be  alone,  O  Su- 
preme One! 

For  my  Lord  is  away  carrying  Thy  message  through  the 
regions  of  the   Underworld, 

And  when  he  returns  he  will  bring  the  morning. 

The  Dark  and  the  fear  of  the  Dark  will  flee  before 
him, 

58 


And  hide  in  the  cavern  of  the  mountains. 

I  shall  need  no  more  to  cover  my  head  with  the  veil  of 

the  illusion   of  indifference. 
For  the  eyes  of  my  Lord  have  looked  into  mine  in  the 

daytime, 
And  have  found  no  shame  therein. 

Thou  who  art  throned  in  the  centre  of  each  and  every 

thing. 
Hide  me  in  the  closure  of  Thy  hand  until  the  morning. 
For  the  eyes  of  fear  are  upon  me. 
Rememberest   Thou  the  look   of  my  Lord  in  the  hour 

of  his  beauty. 
When  the  power  of  the  gods  was  with  him? 
Uncovered  he  was  by  even   a  veil  of  vapour! 
I  saw  in  the  face  of  the  western  sky  the  desire  of  him, 
The  Void  opened  her  arms  to  him. 
Now    in    the   houses    of    Thine   Underworld    are   many 

dangers. 
And  the  Dragons  of  the  Zodiac  are  full  of  malice. 

Oh,  restore  to  me  my  Lord,  my  Beloved! 

The  belt  of  Orion  would  be  laid  aside  at  Thy  bidding; 

Alcyone  is  a  lily  in  Thy  garden; 

The  Milky  Way  is  a  veil  that  hides  Thy  beauty. 

And  I?     I  am  bound  to  the  unlit  side  of  one  of  Thy 

smaller  planets, 
I  am  weak  as  a  blade  of  grass,  my  days  are  drops  of 

rain. 


59 


The  night  is  far  spent. 

Trembling  I  turn  toward  the  dark  closed  tent  of  the 

East, 
The  tent  whose  floor  opens  into  the  future. 
Straining  my  eyes   for  the  first  pale  streak  of  dawn 

under  the  curtains, 
I  wait.  .  .  . 
Will  it  come  like  the  thin  white  blade  of  a  sword  to 

slay  me? 
Will  it  come  like  the  petal  of  a  blush  rose,  tremulous, 

pink  with  unspeakable  promise? 


UNDER  THE  STARS 

Love,  you  have  made  me  dizzy  with  your  eyes! 
They  are  as  deep  and  star-sown  as  the  skies; 
They  reach  above  me  in  their  bourneless  blue  — 
O  high,  vast,  swimming  firmament  of  You! 
Trembling,  I  clutch  your  hand,  so  sure  and  strong: 
As  one  who  gazes  on  the  stars  too  long  — 
Till  he  is  dizzy  with  their  awful  height 
And  the  earth's  motion  through  the  trackless  night 
Clings  to  the  solid  ground,  and  hides  his  face, 
Lest  he  be  flung  into  the  sea  of  space. 


60 


THE  MAN-CHILD 

O  WONDERFUL  small  being  that  my  Love 

Made  of  his  dreams  before  he  dreamed  of  me! 

Trembling  I  bend  above 

Your   terrifying   softness,    for   I   see 

Something  in  you  that  made  the  stars  afraid 

Before  their  moons  were  made. 

Strong  is  my  soul  to  dare  resistant  things; 

But  with  the  pressure  of  your  powerless  hand 

My  will  is  like  a  bird  with  broken  wings. 

And  all  my  words  are  written  in  the  sand. 

And  she  who  bore  you  is  the  sacred  vase 
That  held  the  wine  of  Love's  high  sacrament. 
The  still  Madonna  to  whose  bower  was  sent 
The  angel  of  God's  grace. 

No  other  worshipper  will  come  like  me, 

0  man-child!  with  such  offerings  for  your  sake; 
For  I  know  all  the  secrets  of  the  sea. 

And  of  men's  souls  that  ache; 

1  know  the  mystery  in  women's  eyes. 
The  mute  word  never  said. 

The  laws  that  are  the  wonder  of  the  wise, 
And  why  they  smile  so  strangely  who  are  dead. 


61 


SAPPHICS 

Aphrodite,  lady  of  Love,  O  hear  me! 
I  have  sung  thy  praises  the  heavy  day  long; 
Now  at  nightfall,  sorrowing  still,  my  heart  bows 
Humbly  before  thee. 

Pity  thou  me,  lonely  without  the  garden 
Where  the  rose  blooms;  mad  for  the  beauty  somewhere 
Hiidden  from  me,  under  the  veil  of  twilight 
Wonder  and  shadow. 

Let  me  drink  deep,  deep  of  the  dew  that  lies  cool 
On  the  young  flower!     Give  me,  O  Aphrodite! 
Dew    for    Love's   thirst,   nectar    of   night   to   ease   this 
Fever  that  burns  me. 

Give  me  Love's  dark  rose  of  divine  caresses  — 
Rose  of  deep  curled  petals  the  day  has  known  not. 
Passion's  own  flower,  woven  of  dream  and  perfume. 
Ardour  and  anguish. 

Thine   are   strange   ways,  pitiless   Aphrodite! 
Lone,  denied  love,  weeping  I  go  with  mute  lips 
Where  the  night-blind,  merciful  waters  will  not 
Know  nor  deny  me. 


62 


OUTSIDE 

Take  me  again  to  the  house  of  thy  heart.  Beloved! 
Here  in  the  outer  world  there  is  rain  and  thunder, 
Dragons  of  unbelief  and  the  formless  terror. 

Over  the  earth-face  clings  the  night  like  a  wet  veil; 

Down  from  the  mountain  comes  the  wail  of  the  wild 
things, 

Up  from  the  ocean  the  scream  of  the  wind-blown  sea- 
mew, 

I  am  alone  with  the  night  and  the  rain  is  upon  me, — 
Nothing  to  cover  my  head  but  a  beggar's  garment. 
Take  me  again  to  the  house  of  thy  heart.  Beloved! 


^2V  EPISTLE 

You,  too  near  me  for  grievance  or  pardon. 
Nearer  than  pride,   dearer  than  power. 

Oh!  could  you  not,  while  I  prayed  in  the   garden. 
Watch  with  my  soul  one  hour.f* 

Out  where  the  blossom  of  life  uncloses. 

You  and  I  on  the  path  of  Love 
Walked  in  his  wistful  moon  of  roses. 

One  with  the  bloom  thereof. 


63 


You  in  your  soul  did  the  dream  uncover, 
Reading  the  stars  like  a  master  of  fate  — 

You  the  indomitable  lover 
Daring  to  call  me  mate! 

Never  since  Time  for  a  bridal  token 
Gave  to  the  moon  the  reins  of  the  sea, 

Man  to  woman  such  word  has   spoken. 
Love,  as  you  spoke  to  me. 

How  could  I  know  that  the  book  of  sorrow. 
Blotted  with  tears  by  the  ages  shed. 

Charged  to  my  score  for  a  stern  to-morrow 
Every  word  you  said? 

I  was  a  pilgrim,  a  lyric  dreamer, 

Seeking  the  Grail  round  the  sceptical  earth; 
You  were  my  fiery  faith's  redeemer, 

Lighting  the  cold  grey  dearth. 

Oh !  when  the  eyes  of  the  stranger  signed  you. 
Though   I   had  lingered  so  long  away. 

Came  no  wraith  of  the  past  to  remind  you 
I  should  return  some  day  ? 

Never  since  earth's  remote  beginning 

Two  moons  hung  in  a  dual  sky; 
Never  two  spinners  were  one  thread  spinning 

But  one  spun  awry. 


64 


Though  the  desired  sun  knows  all  places. 
One  line  only  his  noon-rays  mark; 

Only  one  hemisphere  he  faces. 
Leaving  the  other  dark. 

Love,  when  the  waxing  moon  is  rounded 
I  and  my  songs  in  your  arms  will  sink. 

Even  now  is  the  draught  compounded 
Our  two  mouths  shall  drink. 

What  of  the  veil  of  alien  kisses. 

Passionate   hours    and!  dreams   and    sighs, — 
Veil  of  unendurable  blisses 

Now  drawn  over  your  eyes.'* 

Once  your  eyes  were  wells  untroubled. 
Calm  as  the  infinite  Question  of  space: 

Gazing  deep,  I  beheld  there  doubled 
Only  my  own  rapt  face. 

Oh!  shall  I  turn  from  the  wells  though  clouded. 
Missing  the  verity  hid  in  the  wrong, — 

Turn  with  my  pain  and  passion  shrouded 
Under  the  sleeve  of  song? 

Nay,  I  will  drink  of  the  mingled  waters, 
Bitter-sweet  though  the  drinking  be. 

Even  as  the  pale  wise  merman's  daughters 
Drink  the  salt  sweet  sea. 


65 


Then  shall  I  know  the  power  that  humbles, 
Feel  the  compassionate  touch  that  heals. 

See  how  the  Self's  thin  mirror  crumbles 
Under  Life's  vast  wheels. 

Then  shall  I  know  the  hidden  places. 
Turn  the  great  last  leaves  of  the  Book, 

Read  the  wonder  in  women's   faces 
Where  God  dares  not  look. 


THE  ANGEL 

God   sent  an  angel  down  to  me, 

A  sweet  and  shining  one, 
With  deep  eyes  veiled  in  mystery 

And   garments  like  the  sun; 
And  in  its  open  hand  the  key 

No  lone  soul  ever  won. 

I  heard  it   singing  down  the  sky 

Before  I  saw  its  face; 
I  listened,  and  I  wondered  why 

My  life's   familiar  place 
Seemed  new  with  wonder,  like  a  high 

Mountain  awash  with  space. 

It  came  and  touched  me  with  its  hand. 
And  kissed  me  on  the  brow, 

And  told  me  of  a  fabled  land 
Far  off,  and  whispered   now 
66 


Things  that  I   feared  to   understand  — 
A  message  and  a  vow. 

And  I  was  frightened  by  its  power. 

And  anguished  with  its  pain; 
And  all  its  beauty  seemed  the  dower 

Of  my  bewildered  brain; 
And  I  was  eager  for  the  hour 

The  angel  should  be  slain. 

But  they  are  strong,  the  shining  ones 

Who  house  behind  the  stars. 
And  run  wild  races  round  the  suns. 

And  bend  the  rainbow's  bars. 
And  bring  to  grieve  the  moon's  white  nuns 

Red  messages  from  Mars. 

I,  too,  am  strong,  and  in  affright 

Because  it   seems   so  fair, 
I   find  its   throbbing  throat,   dream-white. 

And  clutch  my  fingers  there. 
And  through  the  long,  warm,  moon-mad  night 

I  slay  it  with  despair. 

And  though  it  struggles  in  my  hold. 

And  strives  to  kiss  the  hand 
That  strangles  it,  and  turns  me  cold 

With  tender  fire  —  the  sand 
Of  Time  falls  fast,  and  I  am  bold  — 

But   do  not   understand. 


67 


For  I  know  not  —  Ah,  woe  is  me! 

Whether  I  do  right  well. 
And  save  me  from  the  agony 

No  woman's  lips  may  tell, 
Or  if  I  stand  a  moment  free  — 

But  doom  my  soul  to  hell. 


TO  THE  UNKNOWN  LOVE 

Slowly  the  seasons  come  and  go. 

And  we  are  still  apart! 
We  know  not  each  the  other's  face. 

Though    deep   in   the   lone    heart 
Burns   evermore  the   flame  of  hope  — 

The  fever  and  the  smart. 

Sometimes  within  the  nether  mind 

Vague  memories   arise 
Of  other  times   and  other  climes. 

Of  lips   and  brow  and  eyes. 
Sometimes  it  seems  the  murmuring  breeze 

Is  heavy  with  your  sighs. 

I  hear  your  voice  whenever  a  bird 
Pours  out  its  wild  love  song. 

And  in  the  moaning  of  the  sea 
When  nights  are  drear  and  long. 

My  eyes  look  restlessly  for  yours 
Through  every  passing  throng. 
68 


Somewhere  you  lie  alone  to-night. 

Calling  me  wistfully. 
Oh,  that  the  earthly  veil  might  fall 

And  let  the  spirit  see! 
It  may  be  only  yonder  wall 

Separates  you  and  me. 


THE  LONELY  QUEST 

LoxG  did  my  soul  interrogate  the  stars. 
For  news  of  one  remembered  from  a  day 
When  earth  and  I  were  younger.     A  great  way 

We  walked  together,  then  the  iron  bars 

Of  God  divided  us.     I  bear  the  scars 

Of  lonely  lives,  of  lonely  loves;  the  spray 

Of  doubt  has  drenched  my  faith,  but  could  not  stay 

My  quest  through  all  Time's  changing  calendars. 

And  last  night  when  I  walked  where  angels  call 
Softly  to  one  another  round  the  white 

Circle  of  heaven,  I  found  him  once  again, — 
Found  him  a  watcher  on  the  Guardian  Wall, 
A  torch  of  sacrifice,  a  nameless  light 

For  the  dark  wilderness  of  mortal  pain. 


69 


SALUTATION  TO  THE  LORD  OF  LOVE 

Thou  who  art  Master  of  Life  and  of  Death  and  of 
Time,  I  salute  thee! 

Thine  are  the  unknown  ways  and  the  soul's  hid  pur- 
pose  forever. 

Under  thy  feet  is  the  orbit  of  earth,  and  thy  rhyth- 
mical breathing 

Blows  the  worlds  through  the  void  and  the  stars  on 
their  weariless  journey. 

Thee    I   salute!     Thou   art    fairer   than   youth   in   the 

morn,  my  Beloved, — 
Source  of  the  morn  and  youth;  and  the  years  are  but 

motes  in  the  sunbeam 
Thine    eyes    cast    on    the    wind-swept    ocean    of    Time. 

By  thy   footsteps 
Aeon  on  aeon  is  measured,  and  thine  is  the  gauge  of  a 

moth's  life. 

Thine  is  the  gauge  of  the  soul;  and  my  song,  and  my 

love,   and  my   love's   pain 
Mingle  as  atoms  of  sand  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  of 

thy    being. 
Thee  I  salute !     I,  less  than  obedient  dust  in  thy  service. 
Now  am  chosen,  exalted  high  as  the  gods  in  thy  favour. 

Why  is   the  marvel.   Beloved.'*     How    do    I   merit   the 

jewel 
Hung  by  thy  hand  on  my  neck.^     In  the  night  of  my 

need  I  besought  thee, 
70 


Praying  the  boon  of  the  mere  stones  pressed  by  thy 

feet  on  the  highway  — 
Only  the  stones  of  the  road.     Thou  hast  flung  me  the 

stars  for  my  wearing! 

Even  in  childhood's  days  I,  singled  out  for  thy  blessing, 
Saw  unveiled  that  Beauty  which  moves  on  the  surface 

of  all  things. 
Saw  revealed  that  quivering  Wonder  that  hides  in  the 

shadow ; 
Aye,  thou  hast  sounded  the  Word  of  original  speech  in 

my  hearing. 

These  were  as  nothing.  Beloved!  Only  to-day  have  I 
taken 

Time  by  the  hand,  strong  Love  by  the  lips,  great  Life 
by  his  breathing; 

Now  with  Time  I  am  one,  and  with  Love,  and  with 
Life  and  the  whole  world. 

Thee  I  salute,  O  Beloved,  here  at  the  hem  of  thy  gar- 
ment ! 

Lo,  as  a  friend  I  behold  thee,  entering  the  door  of  my 

dwelling 
Robed    in   thy    mantle    of    splendour  —  Thou    the    In- 

spirer,  the  Unknown !  — 
Reaching  to  touch  my  soul  with  the  torch  that  enkindles 

the  ages. 
Lighting  the  fire  on  my  altar,  the  yearning  that  knows 

no  abatement. 


71 


THE  WAY 

It  is  no  smooth  and  daisy-spangled  way 

That  my   soul's    feet  have  travelled.     They  that  go 
Always  upon  the  safe  path  never  know 

The  wider  wisdom  we  who  go  astray 

Learn  of  the  gods  that  guide  us.     We  must  slay 
Dragons  at  every  turn;  but  they  bestow 
Their  powers  upon  their  conquerors,  and  we  grow 

Richer  for  every  forfeit  that  we  pay. 

I  walked  with  Toil  and  Dream  and  Love  and  Hate, 
Who  all  their  hidden  lore  to  me  confessed; 

No  staff  had  1,  nor  scrip  to  deal  with  Fate, 
Only  the  lamp  of  faith  to  light  my  quest; 

But  when  I  stood  before  the  goal's  high  gate, 
'Twas  opened  wide,  as  for  a  royal  guest. 


72 


Ill 

AZELON 


AZELON 

0  AzELON,  I  wonder  why 

Your  smile  should  make  the  planet  shake! 
I  wonder  why  your  voice  should  make 
The  stars  so  dizzy  in  the  sky. 

1  wonder  why  until  the  dawn 

I  cannot  find  the  gate  of  sleep, 
And  dreams  go  by  like  frightened  sheep, 
Seeking  the  fold  of  Azelon. 

I  wonder  how  the  thought  of  you. 

Once  pale  as  the  first  green  of  spring, 
Has  grown  to  cover  everything. 

With  hopes  like  Mayflowers  shining  through. 

When  I  confer  with  Destiny 
The  Moon  is  my  astrologer. 
Because  I   heard  you  speak  to  her 

One  midnight  when  you  walked  with  me. 

I  question  every  daisy  bed 

For  omens  —  but  they  answer  not. 
The  very  Spring  is  in  a   plot 

To  snarl  my  heart's  bewildered  thread. 

The  violet  hints  your  eyes  are  blue. 
And  laughs  —  my  query  to   evade. 
*Tis  strange,  you  make  me  so  afraid, 

I  never  dare  to  look  at  you! 

75 


0  Azelon,  my  cheek  is  pale! 

The  season's  footsteps  are  so  slow! 
A  rose  may  half  forget  to  blow 
In  listening  for  the  nightingale. 

Some  day,  when  you  are  passing  by, 
If  I  should  dare  to  drop  one  sweet 
Shy  pale  pink  rose-leaf  at  your  feet 

1  wonder  would  you  question  why! 


FAR  AWAY 

If  you  should  come  and  stand  in  yonder  door 

And  look  at  me,  I  would  not  feel  surprise; 

For  I  have  grown  familiar  with  your  eyes 
In  dreaming  of  you.     All  day  long  I  pore 
Over  that  volume  of  unwritten  lore  — 

The  words  you  might  have  said,  the  smiles,  the  sighs 

That  wild  imagination  prophesies 
When  we  come  face  to  face,  as  heretofore. 

Yet  if  a  letter  came  for  me  to-day 

In  your  strange  writing,  I  should  tremble  so 
The  very  messenger,  I  think,  would  know 

Something  my  soul  is  yet  afraid  to  say 

Even  in  the  dark,  when  tossing  to  and  fro 

I  seek  the  path  of  sleep,  and  lose  my  way. 


76 


IN  MAY 

Sometimes  a  fear  blows  cold  upon  my  heart 
That  we  may  come  no  nearer,  after  all; 
And  then  the  grey  November  shadows  fall 

Over  the  green  May  meadows.     Many  start 

Upon  the  way  of  Love,  only  to  part 

At  the  first  cross-roads;  and  the  buds  are  small 
Upon  Love's  apple-trees  —  Oh,  very  small !  — 

And  ripening  days  are  distant  as  thou  art. 

But  when  at  night  on  each  celestial  bough 
I  watch  the  sweet  star-blossoms  one  by  one 
Unfold  their  shining  leaves,  the  morrow's  sun 

Rising  at  dawn  seems  no  more  sure  than  thou; 
And  my  soul's  timid,  silent  orison 

Is  answered  by  thy  soul's  unworded  vow. 


PERVASION 

You  are  all  vague  and  haunting  things  to  me. 
The  shimmer  of  the  moonlight  on  the  mere 
Is  your  strange  being,  and  the  brooding  fear 

Of  the  black  midnight.     Everywhere  I  see 

A  symbol  of  you;  in  the  cedar  tree 

That  dreams  beside  my  window,  in  the  clear 
Eyes  of  the  lonely  stars,  in  the  austere 

And  melancholy  ocean's  mystery. 
77 


Never  the  moon  beholds  my  secret  hours 
But  you  behold  me,  never  the  grey  dawn 
Comes  without  word  of  you  on  its  cool  breath. 
And  will  I  feel  you  in  my  coffin  flowers, 
When  over  Time's  cold  borders  I  am  drawn 
By  the  inexorable  desires  of  Death? 


SHADOW-LOVE 

Dear,  do  you  wonder  when  I  turn  away 

Sometimes  without  a  word?     'Tis  lest  you  know 
The  frightened  secret  I  have  guarded  so! 

When  you  are  gentlest,  then  a  wild  dismay 

Blows  round  my  soul's  frail  dwelling,  and  I  stay 
Far  from  the  windows.     Only  when  you  go 
And  leave  me  alone  with  Love  does  the  flame  glow 

White  on  the  midnight  altar  where  I  pray. 

How  strange  it  is  that  I  who  fear  your  eyes 

Fear  not  your  soul!  for  through  the  grove  of  dreams 
I  walk  with  you  unveiled  and  unafraid 
In  spirit  converse.     But  the  dawn  denies 
Faith  to  the  man  and  woman,  nor  redeems 
One  lovely  pledge  the  daring  shadows  made. 


78 


OLD  SONGS 

To-day  I  read  some  strange  old  songs  of  yours, 

Sung  to  another  woman  long  ago. 

Love,  I  am  glad!  for  now  I  know.  ...  I  know 
That  you  can  love,  and  the  wild  knowledge  cures 
My  deepest  pain  of  all.     Passion  endures: 

A  blade  well  tempered  in  the  furnace  glow 

Never  grows  brittle,  but  endures  the  snow, 
The  ice,  the  night  of  boreal  temperatures. 

I  bless  her,  that  veiled  woman  of  the  past, 
I  pledge  her  beauty  in  my  soul's  red  wine. 

She  surely  is  less  than  I,  for  I  am  last.  .  .  . 
Mine  is  the  future.     And  her  star  shall  shine 

High  in  my  firmament,  immortal,  vast.  .  .  . 
For  I  am  Woman,  and  the  songs  are  mine. 


LOVE-GLANCE 

Last  night  I  saw  a  look  in  your  strange  eyes - 
A  light  —  a  something  that  half  blinded  me. 
So  like  it  was  to  the  sudden  ecstasy 

Of  waking  love,  which  starts  in  sweet  surprise 

That  dawn  is  at  the  window.  .  .  .  But  too  wise. 
Too  wise  am  I  in  secret  tears  to  see 
The  sun  at  midnight,  or  a  prophecy 

Of  joy  in  any  star  in  your  dark  skies! 


79 


And  yet  .  .  .  great  Athon  gazed  at  me  just  so. 

The  night  he  made  his  holy  vows  a  stair 
For  me  to  climb  by.  .  .  .  But  my  brain  says  no: 

The  veriest  pagan  may  recite  a  prayer 
To  his  own  god  before  Christ's  image.     Go 

Thy  lone  strong  way,  my  heart.     Beware, 
beware ! 


THE  SUBSTANCE  AND  THE  SHADOW 

Why  is  your  sadness  sweeter  than  all  song, 
And  the  cold  clasp  of  your  mysterious  hands 
More  warming  than  the  fire?     Ghosts   of   far  lands 

And  lives  unnumbered  at  your  coming  throng 

The  chambers  of  my  house,  and  in  the  long 

Hours  of  your  absence  your  still  wraith  demands 
More  than  your  presence  dares  —  and  understands 

The  weakness  of  my  heart  you  deem  so-  strong. 

Until  I  fear  some  day  I  may  mistake 

The  substance  for  the  shadow,  and  reveal 
All  that  I  tremble  now  lest  you  surmise. 
Wary  my  heart  must  be,  for  pride's  cold  sake; 
And  lest  you  be  an  infidel,  conceal 

With  painted  screens  the  door  of  paradise. 


80 


THE  BECKONER 

One  day  a  vision  came  and  beckoned  me 
Out  of  the  still  grey  halls  where  solitude 
Waits  for  the  guest  whose  coming  must  elude 

The  mocking  eyes  of  Life  and  Destiny. 

I  followed,  and  the  vision  bade  me  see 

The  garden  of  dreams  whose  lilies  never  die. 
The  rainbow  of  Love's  promise  in  the  sky. 

The  arbour  of  faith  whose  walls  are  mystery. 

Breathless  I  cried,  "  Who  art  thou  ?  '*     And  he  said, 
**  My  name  is  Might  Have  Been,     I  am  accurst 
By  all  men,  but  my  boons  shall  make  thee  strong; 
Take  on  thy  lids  my  chrism  of  tears  unshed. 
My  bitter  wine  of  knowledge  for  thy  thirst. 
And  for  thy  breast  the  barren  rose  of  song." 


THE  GATE 

You  are  the  gate  of  that  walled  paradise 
That  I  can  never  enter,  and  your  word 
Is  like  the  angel  of  the  flaming  sword 

That  turns  all  ways.     Beloved,  I   am  wise  — 

Not  from  the  tree  of  knowledge,  but  your  eyes; 
And  sad  with  all  the  meanings  underscored 
In  God's  great  book  of  Passion.  .  .  .  Dream  adored! 
adored ! 

I  slay  it  daily,  but  it  never  dies. 

81 


You  are  the  gate  behind  whose  iron  bars 
The  rose  of  life  is  red,  and  in  the  dusk 
The  angel  walks  among  the  waving  grain. 
I  walk  outside,  beneath  the  shivering  stars; 
My  only  harvest  is  the  empty   husk, 
My  only  flower  the  lily  of  white  pain. 


THE  SECRET  JEWELS 

Oh,  little  do  you  know  how  rich  you  are 
In  priceless  jewels!     I  have  given  you 
Thousands  of  pearls,  my  tears,  all  pure  and  new 

From  the  deep  seas  of  sorrow;  a  great  bar 

Of   rubies   for   your  sword  —  not  mined   afar. 
But  my  heart's  blood  drops ;  opals  of  strange  hue 
My  moonlight  dreams  that  never  will  come  true; 

And  crowning  all,  my  faith  —  a  diamond  star. 

But  these  rich  gifts  I  bring  you  secretly. 
Hiding  them  in  the  dark  and  silent   ground 
Beside  your  door;  for  I  could  never  bear 
That  you  should  know  how  you  impoverish  me. 
Could  not  endure  that  when  the  gems  are  found 
You  gaze  at  me  in  wonder  —  and  not  care ! 


82 


WHEN  WE  ARE  OLD 

My  friend,  when  you  and  I  are  very  old, 
And  meet   each  other  after  many  years. 
And  sit  together  by  the  fire,  that  cheers 

Those  shivering  ones  whose  love-fires  have  grown  cold; 

Then  maybe  I  will  say  to  you :  "  Behold 

These  sweet  song-flowers  I  watered  with  my  tears 
When  I  was  fresh  as  they;  my  woman-fears 

Hid  them  till  beckoning  Death  had  made  me  bold." 

And  lying  all  alone  in  the  dark  night, 

You  will  remember  that  my  mouth  was  red. 
My  hand  was  warm,  my  shoulder  smooth  and  white; 
Remember  and  weep  the  love  you  never  gave. 
And  toss  till  daylight  on  your  dreamless  bed, 
And  shudder  —  thinking  of  the  lonely  grave. 


SIC  TRANSIT  GLORIA  MUNDI 

With  you  pass  all  the  glories  of  the  hills. 

Green  with  the  dream  and  promise  of  the  spring. 
The  robin  leaves  on  chill  autumnal  wing 

My  budding  Northland,  and  the  hidden  rills 
Shudder  as  in  November.     The  wood  stills 
Her  breath  to  listen  for  you,  who  now  sing 
No  more  about  her  chambers.     Everything 

Beautiful  passes  with  you,  and  vague  ills 

Whisper  together  hoarsely  just  outside 

83 


The  door  of  life.  .  .  .  O  Love!  the  clouds  can  tell 
In  sobbing  rain  their  heaviness,  the  tide 

Rises  with  word  of  power;  but  I  who  dwell 
Between  the  granite  walls  of  pain  and  pride. 

With  never  a  tear  endure  the  great  farewell. 


PASSION  SEEDS 

* 

'Tis  sweeter  far  to  gaze  in  your  soft  eyes 
One  little  moment,  without  word  or  touch. 
Than  any  love-embrace  I  ever  knew. 

Your  breath  the  other  night  upon  a  book 
We  read  together,  fluttered  a  loose  page  — 
And  my  soul  shivered  like  a  willow-leaf. 

What  mystic  counsel  did  your  mother   hold 
With  God,  ten  moons  ere  ever  you  were  born. 
That  you  should  wear  the  rainbow  round  your  head? 

Here  is  a  riddle  for  the  dual  Sphinx: 

When  you  are  far  away  —  you  seem  so  near; 

When  you  are  near  —  you  seem  so  far  away. 

Until  I  loved  you,  Dear,  I  never  knew 
How  sad  the  eyes  one  passes  in  the  street. 
How  still  the  world  an  hour  before  the  dawn. 


84 


If  you  should  die  and  learn  my  guarded  love. 
Then  would  I  burn  a  lamp  till  the  sun  rose  — 
Fearing  to  face  your  spirit  in  the  dark! 

Your  letters.  Dear,  are  like  the  gentle  winds 
That  make  the  grey  woods  weep,  on  some  soft  day 
In  winter  when  the  boughs  are  bare  of  leaves. 

To-day   I   heard  a  wandering  harp-player 
Under  my  window,  and  in  every  tone 
The  words  of  love  that  you  will  never  say. 

If  I  could  dip  my  pen  in  your  red  blood. 

Then  would  I  write  such  songs  —  such  passion  songs 

That  even  you  would  wonder  whom  I  loved. 

The  schools  of  all  the  world  could  not  have  taught 
So  deep  a  knowledge  as  my  soul  has  learned 
In  the  stern  college  of  your  calm  regard. 

How  strange  that  I,  who  have  explored  far  seas, 
Charting  new  islands  on  the  map  of  Love, 
Should  steer  my  boat  upon  this  jagged  reef! 

Your  lip  is  like  a  petal  of  that  rose 

That  blossomed  in  the  shadow  of  the  Cross  — 

Red  as  the  mystic  flower  of  Golgotha. 

How  many  hopeless  lovers  must  have  died. 
Hiding  in  guarded  shrines  their  sacred  fire. 
Ere  Sappho  wept  for  Phaon  in  old  days! 

85 


Maybe  some  lonely  heart  in  unborn  years 

Will  bless  your  coldness:  Had  you  given  me  love, 

I  had  made  songs  for  you  —  but  not  these  songs. 

Your  shadow   on  the   granite  wall  of  pain 
Has  shown  me  more  of  beauty  than  the  full 
Sunlight  in  all  the  rose-bowers  of  the  world. 

What  matter  though  the  iron  doors  of  Fate 

Part  us  forever?     Love  is  everywhere, 

And  you  are  mine  —  though  I  am  never  yours. 

I  never  knew  how  chaste  my  spirit  was 

Till  I  touched  you:  Love's  scarlet  flame  is  mild, 

But  his  crucible  is  whiter  than  blown  snow. 

I  saw  a  man  and  woman  with  a  child, 
Happy  together  .  .  .  and  I  stole  away 
Among  the  shadows  of  the  lonely  woods. 

Your  praises  of  my  songs  are  like  the  dole 
Given  a  minstrel  who  in  silence  knows 
He  is  the  secret  first-born  of  the  King. 

I  dread  to  see  the  blossoms  of  the  spring: 

The  violet,  the  white  lily  and  the  rose, 

Will  haunt  me  with  your  eyes,  your  brow,  your  mouth. 

Before  I  saw  your  face,  I  always  wondered 
Why   the  blue  moonlight,   and  the  moaning   sea. 
And  the  grey  dawn,  had  filled  my  soul  with  tears. 

86 


**  I  care  no  more/'  I  said,  and  lightly  sang. 
And  then  I  saw  you  passing  in  the  street.  .  .  . 
And  I  was  very  still,  and  sang  no  more. 

If  you  should  ever  understand  and  say, 

'*  Take   all  I   have,  though  less  than  your  long   love," 

Then  would  I  smile  —  but  go  far  off  from  you. 

Only  from  you  to  me  the  Love  Supreme 
Or  nothing  —  as  that  rebel  archangel 
Chose  hell  to  standing  second  before  God. 

Your  boon  of  thorns  is  my  immortal  wreath; 
And  save  for  you  I  never  could  have  known 
How  One  so  loved  the  world  —  that  loved  him  not ! 


THE  STILLBORN 

The  burden  of  my  love  for  thee  has  grown 
Intolerable;  'tis  heavy  as  a  child 
Under  my  heart,  and  struggles  to  be  born. 
Long  have  I  borne  it  in  my  burning  womb 
Hidden  from  all;  have  laughed  and  gone  my  way 
Among  the  virgins.  .  .  .  But  my  hour  is  come. 
My  mantle  of  indifference   grows   too  narrow 
Longer  to  screen  my  secret,  and  I  creep 
Into  the  lonely  garden  of  confession 
Under  the  stars;  no  lesser  eyes  should  see 
The  weakness  of  my  tears.     The  stars  are  old, 

87 


And  some  bear  women's  names.     Surely  the  stars 
Will  understand;  surely  they  will  not  chide, 
Nor  shame  me  with  cheap  pity,  who  am  strong 
And  ask  no  pity  of  the  stars  or  gods. 

How  long  ago  it  seems,  that  winter  night 
When  in  a  sudden  rapture  the  small  seed 
That  now  has  grown  so  mighty,  fixed  itself 
Deep  in  the  soil  of  my  being!     I  have  seen 
Since  then  the  snow  upon  the  rolling  fields 
Make  way  for  the  daisy,  I  have  seen  the  rose 
Blossom  and  fade,  the  busy  harvesters 
Gathering  the  grain.     Now  in  a  little  while 
Shall  I   behold  something  the  dews  of  night 
Will  warm  their  liquid  hearts  to  lie  upon. 

Let  me  not  cry  aloud,  remembering 
All   things   are   born   in   pain;   remembering 
That  every  pain  shall  pass   and  be  no  more 
Even  a  memory.     Had  not  yonder  plain 
Pangs  poignant  as  a  woman's  in  giving  birth 
To  the  blue  mountain?     Are  not  master-songs 
Born  of  the  poet's  travail  and  his  tears.'' 
Let  me  not  cry  aloud!     Had  my  own  mother 
Never  known  pain,   I  never  had  known  song. 
And  the  green  world  had  never  known  of  me. 

A  little  while  and  I  shall  understand 
More  than  Minerva,  answer  the  great  question 
That  graved  the  wrinkles  on  the  Sphinx's  brow. 
Only  a  little  while  and  I  shall  look 

m 


Love  in  the  face  —  if  it  be  not  born  dead. 
Having  endured  too  deep   prenatal  grief. 
Shall  I  be  frightened  when  I  feel  its  breath. 
Knowing  the  woe  that  waits  all  breathing  things? 

Much  have  I  sung  of  Love  in  other  days. 
When  I  have  walked  with  Joy  in  the  high  hills. 
Careless  and  free.     Having  beheld  its  face. 
Shall  I  pass  awed  and  silent  down  the  years. 
Hushed  with  a  knowledge  beyond  joy  and  song? 


THE  INTERVENER 

I  LEANED  entranced  upon  a  flowery  gate. 
When  a  stern  figure  faced  me  in  disguise. 

I  thought  it  was  the  iron  hand  of  Fate 

That  turned  me  from  that  poppied  paradise; 

But  gazing  up,  with  stifled  word  of  hate, 
I  saw  instead  —  my  Guardian  Angel's  eyes! 


89 


IV 

THE  HUMAN  MIRROR 
A  Rhapsody 


THE  HUMAN  MIRROR 

A  Rhapsody 

I 

Beloved,  all  the  beauty  and  the  dream 

That  trembled  into  being  from  the  dark. 

When  God's  original  creative  spark 

Went  singing  through  the  void  of  the  Supreme, 

Thou  dost  reflect  for  me 

In  the  efl*ulgent  mirror  of  thy  form. 

Everywhere  on  thy  warm 

And  glimmering  surface  beckons  visibly 

The  wraith  of  that  divine  and  mystic  key 

That  can  unlock  the  double-doors  of  Being. 

Thy  semblances  are  symbols  in  my  sight 

Of  that  Reality  beyond  our  seeing, 

Whose  shadows  are  our  glimpses  of  the  Light. 

Oh,  that  thine  eyes  could  see 
The  epiphany  thou   art! 

Love's  vision  has  unveiled  the  moving  mirror. 
And  in  thy  clear  reflection  shown  to  me 
Him,  thy  great  archetypal  counterpart  — 
Creator  and  Preserver  and  Destroyer  — 
Whose  breath  brings  forth  the  whirling  universe. 
And  whose  inbreathing  draws  it  back  again. 
In  the  dark  Sea  of  Silence  to  immerse 
The  links  of  Time's  long  chain. 

93 


All  forms  lie  only  half-concealed  in  thee: 

The  curve  that  hints  the  circle  hidden,  the  line 

Straight  as  an  arrow  from  Creation's  bow. 

The  pentacle,  the  trine. 

The  royal  square,  the  demiurgic  sign, — 

These  are  the  symbols  of  thy  sovereignty. 

Magi  of  Love,  they  will  reveal  to  me 

The  mysteries  they  know. 

Thy  kisses  are  the  very  potency 

Of  the  immortal  Breath, 

A  whisper  on  the  winds  of  ecstasy 

Blown  from  the  green  fields  beyond  life  and  death. 

My  fluid  soul  that  presses  quivering 

The  shores  of  Being  at  the  touch  of  thee. 

Is  one  drop  of  that  primal,  spatial  sea 

Thrilled  by  the  vibrant  touch  of  God  to  sing 

The  passion-song  whose  notes  are  stars  and  prayers; 

And  in  the  rush  of  joy  my  spirit  dares 

The  rhythm  of  that  planetary  music. 

O  thou  star-wanderer! 

Would  that  I  knew  the  tenuous  winding  way 
Thou  hast  ascended  through  our  terrene  clay 
The  seven  stairs  of  Life  — 
The  toil,  the  unimaginable  strife! 
Aye,  or  that  other  longer,  stranger  road. 
Whose  deep  declivities  are  gods  and  aeons. 
The  road  of  thine  original  descent 
From  Him,  the  Immanent, 
The  One,  the  inconceivable  Abode. 

94 


Thine  every  footstep  seems 
To  hint  of  ways  whose  chart  He  only  hath; 
Infinite  must  have  been  thy  days^  thy  dreams, 
Thy  converse  on  the  path. 

Son  of  the  Presence, 

The  boundaries  of  thine  inheritance 

Are  one  with  thy  great  Sire's   divine  romance. 

Thine  are  the  potencies  of  endless  life. 

And  on  thy  lips  is  that  unchanging  word 

Whose  lingering  cadence  every  age  has  heard. 

In  thee  are  all  the  pictures  of  the  past, 

The  shadowed  wraith  of  everything  that  is. 

The  seeds  of  all  realities  to  be. 

Unseen  they  lie,  in  silent  companies. 

Waiting  my  touch  that  irresistibly 

Calls  them  to  manifest  their  forms  to  me. 

Even  reminders  of  ancestral  wrong 

Survive  in  these  fond  arms  wherein  I  rest  — 

The  powers  at  whose  behest 

The  ages  made  me  weak,  and  made  thee  strong; 

But  I  forgive  and  love  like  all  those  women 

Whose  lives  are  the  background  of  my  palimpsest. 

And  over  their  dead  story  I  grave  my  song. 

Revealed  in  thee,  bards  of  the  unborn  days  — 
Their  foreheads  honoured  with  prophetic  bays 
The  seeds  of  whose  home  trees  have  yet  to  climb 
Through  the  cold  soil  of  time  — 
Urge  me  to  give  my  songs  to  pave  the  ways 
Their  unshod  feet  must  travel. 

95 


II 


Thy  body,  my  Beloved,  is  to  me 

The  alphabet  of  Life's  deep  mystery; 

By  it   my  soul  can   falteringly   spell 

The  hidden  story  of  humanity. 

And  all  its  perilous  future  paths  foretell. 

O  miracle  of  form! 

O  ecstasy  of  spiritual  line. 

Where  human  sight  is  lost  in  the  divine! 

Dizzy   with  adoration   I   have  lain 

In  the  rapt  stillness  of  the  summer  night. 

Companioned  by  the  intimate   sweet  moon. 

Gazing  at  thee  —  until  the  sheer  delight 

Of  vision  grew  bewildered,  even  to  pain. 

Losing  itself  in  swoon. 

The  mould  wherein  thy  wonder-breathing  flesh  — 
Young  and   so   flower- fresh  — 
Was  wrought  but  yesterday  of  joyous  clay. 
Is  older  than  the  memory  of  thy  race. 
It  has  persisted  with  thee,  birth  by  birth. 
Since  that  self-confident  day 
In  the  triumphant  springtime  of  the  earth. 
When  the  strong  groping  spirit  of  Man  first  uttered 
That  ritual  of  his  immortality. 
Varied  by  destiny,  desire  and  time. 
Experience  and  clime. 

The  shadows  thine  enduring  form  has  cast 
Upon  the  mirror  of  mortality  — 
Their  little,  gesturing,  vivid  hour  to  last  — 

96 


Have  one  by  one  passed  irretrievably 

Into  the  dark  enclosing  frame  of  the  grave. 

But  still  the  Uncreated  waits  in  thee. 

Urging  —  through  mazes  where  no  mind  can  trace 

The  utter  diffusion  of  Its  unity  — 

Eager  reincarnations  of  thy  race. 


Ill 


Oh,  that  my  questing  soul  could  understand 

This  mystery  of  Life  that  hides  in  thee! 

I  read  no  message  of  Infinity 

In  the  star-mirroring,  stupendous  sea. 

So  potent  to  inspire 

Even  as  one  small  motion  of  Love's  hand. 

O  golden  life  of  spirit,  dream  and  fire. 

Compounded  in  the  cabinet  of  birth! 

Art  thou  my  Love's,  prisoned  by  his  desire 

Within  his  house  of  sublimated  earth? 

Or,  art  thou  in  thyself  that  ambushed  Thing, 

Whose  intricacies  of  doom 

Astound  the  figures  of  man's  reckoning? 

Maybe  thou  art  the  Master  of  the  loom. 
Stronger  than  Time,  inscrutable  as  Fate, — 
The  Weaver  who  by  devious  delays 
Held  the  gold  threads  that  are  my  Lover's  days 
Suspended  in  the  air. 
Until  it  served  thy  purposes  to  fill 
The  tiny  but  inevitable  square 
Sacred  to  him,  his  own  predestined  part 

97 


In  the  grand  pattern  of  Kabalistic  skill  — 
The  human  fabric  of  thine  awful  art. 

What  is  that  life.  Beloved,  that  I  feel 

Vibrant,  self-conscious,  in  each  atom  of  thee? 

By  aid  of  Love's  white  magic  I  would  steal 

The  veil  which  hides  that  habitant  from  me. 

Baring  the  jealous  beautiful  strange  face 

Science  may  not  uncover  — 

The  face  of  Life  itself,  therein  to  trace 

The  mystery  of  my  Lover. — 

Could  I  unveil  its  wrappings,  could  I  see 

That  unit  of  untiring  energy 

Which   animates  thy   fervid,  throbbing  clay, 

I,  though  a  time-bound  mortal,  might  arouse 

Visions,  long-slumbering,   of  Creation's   Day; 

I  might  behold  the  eyes  of  Him  whose  spouse 

Was  the  great  Paradigm  — 

Mother  of  Form,  of  Motion,  and  of  Time  — 

Whose  memory  endows 

The  forms  of  earth  with  their  bewildering  beauty 


IV 


The  soft  rose-lining  of  thy  human  veil 
Is  the  soul-essence  of  that  crimson  hue 
The  gods  know  as  desire; 
Chastened   it  was   in   that  creative   fire 
Which  left  thy   gleaming  surface   ivory-pale, 
Unshaded  by  the  dust  whereof  it  grew. 
Thy  devious  veins  whose  deep  blue  courses  seem 

98 


Mysterious  hieroglyphs  all  over  thee. 

Are  secret  rivers  of  Infinity, 

Rolling  their  pulsing  ways  through  meadows  of  dream 

Down  to  the  mystic  sea. 

The  restless  sea  whose  tides  are  life  and  death. 

Oh,  that  the  river's  flood  might  cover  me! 

That  I  might  breathe  no  longer  my  own  breath 

In  this  cold  isolate  austerity 

Of  life  outside  of  thee! 

Love,  let  me  feel  the  divine  ravishment 

Of  thy  deep  veins*  inviolate  content. 

The  beating  of  thy  heart  is  to  my  ears 

The  rhythm  of  the  sacramental  mass 

Sung  by  the  vested  years. 

As  one  by  one  with  measured  steps  they  pass 

In  rapt  procession  round  the  reverent  spheres. 

That  superhuman  music  moves  my  soul 

Even  as  the  wind's  wild  music  moves  the  sea. 

While  under  and  around  and  over  me 

Thy  heartbeats  sound  their  mighty  organ  roll. 


Pulsing  and  luminous,  the  fringe  of  light 
Around  thy  form  is  visible  to  me 
In  the   dark  night. 
In  that  ellipse  I  see 

The  orbits  of  the  world  of  pain  and  pleasure. 
That  round  thy  heliocentric  heart,  my  Love, 
Tread  their  melodious  measure. 
Like  to  the  ether-wandering  worlds  above. 

99 


What  draws  the  glory  of  thine  aureole 

I  know  not,  save  it  be 

The  fierce  attraction  of  the  cosmic  Soul. 

Its   oscillation  blinds   and   dazes   me: 

It  rises  from  thee  like  the  shimmering  heat 

From  metal  in  the  sunlight,  when  the  wheat 

Ripens,  and  meadow-lands  exude 

Their  second  plenitude. 

Is  this  the  fiery  essence  of  thy  being, 

That  at  the  stations  of  its  outward  course 

Calls  to  its  flaming  source? 

These   mysteries   of  light  which  beckoned   so 

That  I  bound  on  my  sandals  for  the  quest, 

Challenge  me  now,  and  would  my  steps  arrest, 

Raising  a  warning  finger  lest  I  go 

Even   to   the   cave   of   the   Unmanifest 

That  brooks  no  mortal  guest. 

Yet  strange  things  do  I  see  recorded  here 

In  this  thy  Soul's   symbolic  atmosphere: 

Outlines  of  lands,  remembered  mistily. 

Where  I  have  walked  with  thee 

In  lanes  of  love,  or  other  paths  austere. 

In  thy  far  wanderings  through  realms  unknown. 
When  in  the  night  alone 
With  the  wise  ancient  retrospective  sea, 
Have  not  vague  memories  come  and  questioned  thee 
Of  bygone  days  with  me? 

When  thou  hast  heard  the  moon-mad  nightingale's 
Lyrical  wooing  of  his  love,  the  rose, — 
Whose  answering  sweetness  to  his  passion  flows 

100 


In  yearning  fragrance  through  her  filmy  veils, — 

Hast  thou  not  felt  the  haunting  atmosphere 

Of  something  lost,  yet  memorably  dear? 

Has  not  a  deep,  oppressive  emptiness 

Cried  in  thy  heartache  for  a  happiness 

Whose  lovely  name  even  thou  couldst  not  guess  — 

Being  the  speech  of  some  forgotten  sphere? 

On  Thought's  horizon  I  have  caught  the  gleam 
Of  setting  stars,  through  memory's  twilight  haze. 
And  known  them  for  the  ghosts  of  other  days. 
When  thou  and  I  together,  my  Beloved, 
Dreamed  the  sweet  human  dream: 
These  phantoms  walk  with  thee  in  all  thy  ways. 
The  perfume  of  thy  passion-shadowed  hair 
Is  heavy  with  the  mystery  and  the  prayer 
That  brooded  over  Asia  in  old  time. 
Thine  eyes  have  the  deep  meditative  calm 
Of  India  in  her  prime. 

Pure  with  the  peace  of  the  eternal  Brahm. 
Thine  eyebrow's  dusky  line 
Is  hieroglyphic,  an  ideal  sign 
Occult  with  ancient  meanings,  but  half  hid. 
Of  Sphinx  and  pyramid. 
Every  reflection  on  thy  mirror  cast 
Is  teeming  with  the  spectres  of  the  past. 
In  what  dim  dawn  of  elemental  dream 
Did  thy  first  vibrant  image  agitate 
The  tenuous  substance  of  the  shadowland? 
The  far  events  these  glyphs  commemorate. 
My  dust-blind  spirit  may  not  understand. 

101 


VI 


Turn  to  me,  Love,  thy  sweet,  reflective  eyes! 

What  beauty-curtained  thoughts  convene  behind 

Their  windows  in  the  chamber  of  thy  mind  ?  — 

The  secret  chamber  to  which  God  denies 

That  even  I  should  any  entrance  find. 

Hurling  the  atoms  of  Himself  apart. 

Did  our  primordial  Projector  fear 

That  in  our  gravitation  back  again. 

Proclivity  might  carry  us  too  near  — 

One  to   another  yearning  passionately  — 

Making  his  purpose  plain 

Before  the  destined  hour  of  Unity? 

And,  fearing  so,  did  He  reserve  the  mind. 

That  one  inviolate  and  lonely  centre 

Even  Love  may  not  enter? 

Yet  often,  my   Beloved,  I  have  caught 

Etheric  intimations  of  thy  thought. 

When  hands  and  lipst  and  eyes  were  motionless. 

Guided  by  these,  my  hopes  have  dared  to  guess 

Some  hidden  entrance  that  would  yield  to  me. 

Could  I  but  find  the  key. 

It  is  a  master-workshop,  and  a  temple. 
That  Nature-guarded  chamber  of  thy  thought. 
There  in  seclusion  potent  things  are  wrought. 
And  potent  worship  offered  to  the  Light 
By  day  and  night. 
There  as  the  solar  periods   go   by. 
The  resolute  magician  dares  alone 

102 


The  demon  legions  of  the  magic  zone  — 

Phantasmal  forms  that  seek  to  terrify 

Even  the  valiant  ones  at  whose  behest 

The  veil  is  raised  that  guards  the  great  Unknown. 

Thy  sovereign  will  is  that   arch  alchemist 
Whose  power  no  spirit  can  utterly  resist. 
Held  in  its  crucible^  Life's  baser  things 
Are  melted  into  Beauty's  virgin  gold: 
'Motives  of  men,  their  rhythms  manifold, 
Their  fierce  desires,  their  dreams  and  falterings, 
All  are  transmuted  by  that  master  bold. 
Through  Love  —  the  universal  alkahest 
Of  the  magician's  quest. 

Lone,  and  besieged  forever  by  the  rout 
Of  the  unhallowed  sons  of  Fear  and  Doubt, 
The  patient  worker  that  abides  in  thee  — 
Shaping  new  beauties  for  eternity  — 
Shall  be  the  prophet  of  a  purer  art. 
Thou  Poet  of  my  heart! 


VII 

The  reverent  soul  in  me 
Would  swing  Love's  sacred  censer  silently 
Before  that  altar  where  the  soul  in  thee  — 
Pure  as  a  flower  to  heaven  looking  up  — 
Burns  in  its  golden  cup. 

103 


Thy  spirit  is  a  lamp  to  light  my  way 

Through  the  bewildering  mazes  of  the  earth. 

Beyond  this  perilous  dearth 

It  beckons,  and  I  go  no  more  astray 

After  the  ignis   fatuus  of  fame. 

Nor  pleasure's  wavering  flame. 

That  love-trimmed,   faith-filled  lamp  burns   steadily, 

Even  in  the  winds  of  pain  it  flickers  not. 

Signal  divine  of  God,  it  marks  for  me 

The  destined  earthly  spot 

Where  for  my  wind-blown  soul  passage  may  be 

To  the  far  calling  ocean  of  unity. 

VIII 

These  are  the  seven  jewels  the  stars  intrust 

To  the  rash  keeping  of  the  house  of  dust: 

Thy  form,  thy  life,  thy  garment  of  desire. 

Thy  veiled  etheric  record  of  the  past, 

Thy  dual  mind  —  the  dream  that  will  not  last 

And  the  immortal  vision  framed  in  fire. 

And  IT,  the  golden  microcosmic  spark 

Of  the  one  Flame  whose  word  awoke  the  vast 

Of  the  original  dark. 

This  house  of  dust  that  shelters  thee.  Beloved, 
This  body  where  thou  tarriest  a  day. 
Is  the  hall  of  learning  told  of  by  the  sages 
Of  older,  wiser  ages. 

That  every  traveller  dwells  in  on  his  way. 
Over  the  sombre  walls  are  gaily  spread 

104 


The  fabrics  of  illusion,  blue  and  red, 

Violet,  gold,  and  every  lovely  hue 

The  vreavers  knew. 

The  jewel  of  the  Great  Ensnarer  glows 

Temptingly  here  wherever  the  light  falls. 

And  in  the  dark  malevolently  glows. 

Never  while  lingering  within  these  walls 

Hope  to  enjoy  repose. 

Yet  in  these  chambers  of  illusive  grace 

A  little  while  I  would  abide  with  thee, 

Till  Beauty  —  thy  co-dweller  —  shows  to  me 

The  wonder  of  his  face. 


IX 


0  benedicite  unutterable! 

1  see  thee  in  the  glory  of  the  sun  — 
Blindingly  beautiful. 

Even  in  mystic  visions  there  is  none 

Comparable  with  thee  when  that  sovereign  light 

Reveals  thee  so  to  my  interior  sight. 

The  petals  of  the  rose  are  not  so  fresh 

As  the  blossom  of  thy  flesh. 

Nor  is  the  marble  of  Pentelicus 

To  be  compared  with  thee  for  gleaming  splendour, 

Thou  culmination  of  the  marvellous ! 

When  first  I  saw  thee  in  the  light  of  the  sun, 
A  film  undreamed  of  fell  from  off  my  eyes; 
Then  I  beheld  what  Beauty  meant  to  Him 
Who  made  it,  as  His  own  primeval  bride  — 

105 


Made  it  and  veiled  it  even  from  the  wise-^ 

From  all  save  those  whom  love  had  purified. 

But  though  I  had  the  voice  of  the  seraphim, 

I  could  not  make  the  blind  world  realise 

The  vision  in  my  eyes. 

Beloved,  where  the  lights  and  shadows  meet 

Along  thy  sun-illumined  form,  I  see 

Glory  liquescent,  quivering  mystery. 

O  wonder  from  thy  forehead  to  thy  feet  — 

Wonder  of  Beauty,  by  whose  ravishment 

Spirit  and  mind  are  blent! 

Dazed  with  infinitude,  I  lay  my  face 

In  the  warm  intimate  shelter  of  thy  breast: 

But  even  here  the  vision  finds  no  rest. 

Here  the  fond  relic  of  a  lost  embrace  — 

A  union  riven  in  some  forgotten  storm  — 

Whispers  imagination  of  a  time 

When  we  were  one,  even  in  outer  form; 

And  this  sweet  useless  remnant  yet  survives 

To  explain  the  yearning  of  our  separate  lives. 


I  hold  thy  lovely  head  between  my  hands. 
With  fingers  buried  in  thy  clinging  hair. — 
O  maze,  whose  mystery  is  my  despair! 
Symbol  whose  meaning  no  man  understands! 
Art  thou  an  emanation  and  a  glory 
Of  the  indwelling  spiritual  fire, 
A  million-threaded  lyre 

106 


iMusical  with  the  immemorial  story 

Of  bodiless  desire  ?  — 

The  whisper  of  thy  locks  across  my  face 

Is  like  the  quick  embrace 

Of  a  passing  spirit  in  the  startled  air. 

Potent  as  faith  and  passionate  as  prayer. 


XI 


O  benedictive  hands,  that  hold  for  me 

Divine  response  to  all  my  orisons! 

Ye  are  the  same  that  down  the  past  I  see 

Wildly  uplifted  to  the  deity 

Of  prehistoric  suns. 

The  lonely  dream  whose  destiny  was  man. 

Yearning  to  reach  and  take 

The  blessed  something  of  his  dumb  desire. 

Performed  the  miracle  —  and  so  began 

Beautiful  hands,  like  these  of  Love*s,  that  make 

Such  complicated  music  on  the  lyre 

Of  my  imagination. 

Wonderful  are  these  nails,  the  boundary 

Of  thine  extension  in  the  outer  vast: 

Curled  rose  leaves,  that  some  danger  of  the  past^ 

Some  ancient  cruelty. 

Petrified  in  their  fragrant  loveliness. 

But  mindful  of  the  garden  of  delight 

Where  first  they  bloomed,  they  spring  as  readily 

To  the  clutch  of  Love's  invincible  caress. 

As  to  the  sterner  fierceness  of  the  fight. 

ao7. 


XII 


I  gaze  into  the  dark  dream  of  thine  eyes. 

Deep  and  bewildering  as  etheric  space  — 

The  night-veil  of  the  skies 

Wherein  God  hides  His  unendurable  beauty. 

Only  revealing  in  the  points  of  light 

Glimpses   of  His  inviolable  grace 

Subdued   for  human   sight. 

O  visual  spheres,  to  whose  formation  went 

The  very  essence  and  the  potency 

Shrined  in  each  element! 

In  you  the  dust  of  earth  is  most  divine. 

And  the  uncertain  substance  of  the  sea 

Held  for  a  vast  design 

So  marvellous  that  man  might  almost  fear  it: 

The   revelation   to   the   prisoned   one  — 

The  lonely,  earth-bound  spirit  — 

Of  that  material,  cosmic  tapestry 

Woven  of  stars  and  earth  and  air  and  sea. 

For  this  the  patient  watchman  of  the  Sun, 

Sleepless  through  ages  in  Time's  wilderness, 

Has  burned  his  mighty  lamp  that  men  might  guess. 

Seeing  the  web,  the  purpose  of  the  Weaver. 

Through  the  occult  dark  centres  of  thine  eyes 
God  looks  at  me. 
O  gaze  that  terrifies! 
O  loving,  brooding  Dweller  that  is  God! 
In  those  impenetrable  deeps  I  see 
The  clear,  transcendent  Question  looking  out 

108 


Into  this  world  of  Doubt; 

A  separate  Something,  dwelling  there  alone, 

Guarding  a  hidden  purpose  of  its  own. 

Through  what  long  changes  in  the  forms  of  things 

Hast  thou,  indwelling  Wonder,  found  thy  way 

Triumphing  through  the  ever-lightening  rings. 

From  thy  first  blind  desire  to  the  outer  day? 

JEons  have  passed  thee,  stumbling  in  the  dark! 

Thy  passage  left  a  mark 

In  the  soft  substance  of  eternity 

That  only  God  could  see. 

How  lonely  and  bewildered  was  thy  going! 

The  whole  blind  length  of  solitude  thy  way 

Led,  and  the  width  of  pain. 

The  height  and  depth  of  yearning  and  dismay. 

Then  in  a  dream  thy  vision,  lightning-taught. 

Leaped  through  unknown  dimensions  of  the  brain, 

And  the  miracle  was  wrought. 

All  this  I  read.  Beloved,  in  the  wise 

Deep  volume  of  thine  eyes. 

XIII 

Last  night  I  whispered  in  the  noiseless  dark 
A  message  from  my  spirit  unto  thine; 
Then  in  a  rush  of  wonder  did  I  hark 
Thine  unseen  spirit's  answer.     And  the  sign 
Of  nearness  made  me  dizzy,  as  with  wine 
From  the  blue  bowl  of  the  great  Mysteriarch. 
I  touched  thee  not,  beheld  thee  not;  the  world  — 

109 


For  all  that  I  might  see  — 

Rounded  her  shoulder  between  thee  and  me. 

And  then  my  whisper   and  thine  answer,  clear 

As   Venus   questions   Mars  across  the  still 

Blue  solar  chamber,  with  the  same  heart-thrill 

As  mine,  and  makes  him  hear; 

And  the  two  planets  counsel  in  the  night  — 

Maybe  about  the  birth 

Of  a  spirit  on  the  intervening  earth. 

Whose  natal  hour  makes  him  their  neophyte. 

O  wonder-gift  of  speech! 

Ethereal  medium  on  whose  vibrant  wings 

Thy  brain's  imaginings 

Cross  the  great  circles  of  the  Void,  and  reach 

My  brain,  that  yearns  to  thine  even  as  my  mouth 

Yearns  to  thine  eager  mouth. 

Thy  voice  to  me  is  that  high  Emanation 

Out  of  whose  glories  came 

The  ordered  hierarchies  of  creation  — 

Spouse  of  the  unimaginable   Name! 

Between  thy  lips  there  comes  to  signal  me 

The  Word  of  the  great  deep. 

Wherein  the  twain  —  Memory  and  Prophecy  — 

Their  world-long  council  keep. 

Thy  voice.  Beloved,  is  the  signature 

After  the  great  clef  of  the  planet  Earth  — 

The  key  wherein  my  being's   overture 

Was  written  by  the  star  that  ruled  my  birtti. 


110 


XIV 

Yea,  breathe  upon  me,  Love,  that  I  may  live 
With  an  intenser  life. 

I  would  that  all  my  being's  ways  were  rife 
With  the  sweet  certitudes  thy  life  can  give. 
Thy  breathing  has  that  rhythm  the  ocean  taught 
The  artless  children  of  the  Lunar  reign. 
Before  primeval  Feeling  married  Thought 
And  brought  forth  all  their  progeny  of  pain. 

How  beyond  all  earth's  meaning  is  the  sweet 

Low  whisper  of  that  breath  which  comes  to  me 

As  from  the  very  lips  of  Eternity  — 

Thou  visible  paraclete 

Out  of  the  timeless  vast  Invisible! 

Thy  breath  is  a  caress  the  bodiless  Past 

Bestows  upon  me  as  a  mystic  charge. 

Through  me  to  kiss  the  last 

Breath  on  the  bodiless  Future's  yearning  marge. 

So  solemn  the  mere  thought, 

I  half  forget  thy  wistful  human  sweetness. 

Without  whose  glamour  all  these  things  were  naught 

But  colourless  abstractions,  void  of  worth 

Here  on  the  warm,  emotion-throbbing  earth. 

XV 

Sometimes  the  dual  rhythm  of  thy  breath. 
Love,  and  thy  beating  heart, 

111 


Bewilder  me  with  their  involved  motion. 
In  some  uncomprehended  way  thou  art 
One  with  the  power  of  God  that  measureth 
The  heart-throb  of  the  ocean. 
And  the  wild  wind's  premeditated  breath. 

XVI 

I  feel  the  benediction  of  thy  dear 

Soft  hand  upon  my  face. 

From  thy  caress  long  rays  of  ecstasy 

Stream  far  beyond  my  being's  narrow  sphere. 

Losing  themselves  in  the  blue  deeps  of  space. 

How  does  thy  lightest  touch  unseal  in  me 

Vials  of  yearning  attar,  that  flow  out  — 

Pouring  their  passionate  fragrance  over  thee! 

Beneath  thy  hand  what  strains 

Of  ethereal  music  cry  along  my  veins! 

XVII 

Yea,  make  me  one  with  thee ! 
Clasp  me  and  hold  me  in  that  unity 
Stronger  than  thought,  keener  than  pain  — 
The  only  thing  intense  enough  to  seem 
Real  in  this  world  of  shadow  and  vague  dream. 
Something  we  must  attain 
Calls  us,  surrounds  us,  penetrates  our  lives 
With  that  unrest  no  mortal  comprehends. 
The  answering  soul  ascends 
Eagerly  rung  by  rung  the  ladder  of  flame; 

112 


Heedless  of  earth,  of  heaven,  it  blindly  strives 

Toward  its  supernal  aim. 

The  angels  listen,  poised  on  moveless  wings. 

And  all  invisible  things 

Rush  through  the  void,  attracted  by  the  light 

That  shines  around  us  in  the  teeming  night. 

The  sounds  of  unknown  seas  are  in  our  ears. 

Time  is  no  more,  but  lost  in  one  accord 

Are  the  moments  and  the  years; 

And  seraphs  waft  us  with  their  orisons 

The  fragrance  of  the  roses  of  the  Lord. 

Grasped  tight  in  the  great  Hand  that  hurled  the  suns 

Clear  to  their  goals  in  space,  we  two  are  hurled 

Out  in  the  ether,  out  in  the  abyss, 

Till  self  is  lost  and  whirled 

Round  and  around  like  spirits  in  a  storm  — 

Out  where  mad  chaos  blazes  into  form. 

And  planets,  lightning-shod. 

Rush  past  us  with  a  cry  as  on  they  race     ,     .     . 

Blinded,  we  know  how  Moses  hid  his  face 

Because  he  was  afraid  to  look  on  God. 


113 


V 

THE  SPIRIT  AND  THE  BRIDE 

A    SONNET    SEQUENCE 


THE  GUERDON  OF  DESIRE 

O  THOU  unknown  companion  of  my  soul! 

I  reach  my  yearning  empty  arms  to  thee 

Across  the  baffling  dark.     Come  thou  to  me 
Now  when  I  call.  Beloved,  though  the  whole 
Wide  universe  of  suns  and  seasons  roll 

Between  thy  world  and  mine.     What  sign  shall  be 

Our  spirit  seal  of  ultimate  unity. 
Is  graven  deep  on  Time's  unending  scroll. 

The  days  are  heavy-footed;  but  I  know 

Thou  wilt  not  come  to  me  till  I  can  say  — 

Though  dizzy  with  pent  passion's  overflow: 
"  O  God  of  Love,  if  that  should  be  the  way 

Thy  servant  needs  must  travel,  I  will  go 
Unloved  and  lonely  even  to  my  death  day ! " 


THE  MYSTIC  HILL 

Nay,  friend,  I  am  not  sad,  but  very  still. 

Waiting  the  word  of  Life  that  shall  unbind 
The  fetters  of  my  soul.     For  I  shall  find 

Some  day  a  pathway  up  the  mystic  hill 

Where  Beauty  walks  with  Love,  where  dawns  fulfil 
The  dreams  of  midnight,  and  the  half  divined 
Wonder  unveils  its  face,  and  every  wind 

With  perfume  of  pure  faith  is  all  athrill. 


117 


And  one  will  dwell  with  me  in  that  high  place 
Who  gazes  toward  it  from  the  other  side. 

Even  as  I  to-day,  guarding  the  vase 

For  the  immaculate  rose,  whose  petals  hide 

The  golden  heart  of  mystery  and  grace, 
The  promise  of  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride. 


THE  BRIDEGROOM 

I  WAIT  for  you.  Beloved,  even  as  they. 

The  virgins  of  the  Gospel,  through  the  night 
Waited  with  lamps  all  trimmed  and  burning  bright 

The  coming  of  the  bridegroom.     For  the  day 

And  hour  I  know  not,  nor  by  what  strange  way 
Your  feet  may  travel.  Will  you  bear  a  light 
Shining  far  off,  like  fame.^     And  at  the  sight 

Will  my  small  lamp  respond  with  lengthening  ray? 

Or  will  you  come  in  silence  through  the  dark, 
Unknown  to  all  but  me?     The  loftiest  soul 

Shuns  glory  sometimes  as  the  heavenly  lark 
Loves  not  the  noise  of  trumpets.     I  console 

My  waiting  heart  with  song  —  but  always  mark 
The  measure  of  oil  in  my  lamp's  golden  bowl. 


118 


THE  MYSTIC  MESSENGER 

Why  do  you  come  to  me  by  night,  by  day, 
O  ether  wandering  wraith?     I  would  forget 
The  vision  of  your  haunting  eyes,  and  yet  — 

I  dare  not  bid  you  either  go  or  stay, 

For  fear  of  Love  offending!     In  the  grey 
Austerity  of  dawn  my  lids  are  wet 
With  tears  that  are  not  grief's,  then  pale  regret 

Murmurs  one  warning  word,  and  fades  away. 

What  mystic  message  has  your  soul  for  mine. 
Beyond  the  reach  of  language  or  of  thought? 

What  jewel  from  the  spirit's  guarded  mine 

To  crown  me  has  your  brooding  presence  brought? 

Beware,  fond  wraith!     The  world  is  bold,  malign. 
And  joys  to  bring  such  lovely  dreams  to  naught! 


OUT  OF  THE  MAZE 

Out  of  the  world's  inextricable  maze 

You  came  and  stood  beside  me;  and  I  knew  — 
After  our  long  first  look  —  that  it  was  you 

For  whom  the  watch-fires  of  my  soul  did  blaze 

Their  beacon  through  the  darkness.     Many  days 
And  many  tears  our  faith  must  battle  through. 
Before  the  orb  of  peace  will  rise  in  view. 

Blessing  the  union  of  our  separate  ways. 
119 


But  in  the  joy  of  knowing  that  you  are. 
My  soul  is  strong  to  dare  the  long  ascent 
To  the  great  light,  serene  and  confident 

That  we  shall  reach  Love's  temple,  though  afar; 
That  we  shall  take  Love's  mystic  sacrament. 

And  shriven  stand  before  Life's  judgment  bar. 


RECOGNITION 

When  we  came  face  to  face  that  star-set  night 
Of  miracle,  my  wondering  spirit  knew 
The  purpose  of  its  unity  with  you. 

Sealed  by  some  strange,  vaguely  remembered  rite 

In  unrecorded  ages.     A  white  light 

Hid  in  your  shadow.     The  caressing  dew 
That  lies  upon  the  rose  the  still  night  through. 

Is  less  refreshing  than  that  first  quick  sight 

To  my  awakened  vision.     I  could  see 

God's  beauty  shining  through  you,  as  a  veil. 

Your  voice  was  fraught  with  messages  for  me 
From  the  vast  virgin  Silence;  and  the  frail 

Glass  of  my  life  trembled  with  ecstasy. 

As  though  it  touched  the  rim  of  the  Holy  Grail. 


120 


THE  SPELL 

The  spell  that  draws  my  startled  soul  to  thine 
Seems  to  be  sounded  from  a  secret  place 
A  million  leagues  above  the  world  in  space. 

Seems  to  be  answered  with  the  countersign 

A  million  leagues  below.     What  vast  design. 
Beyond  our  need  to  understand  or  trace. 
Brought  us  from  dual  darkness  face  to  face 

In  the  great  Hght,  fusing  thy  dreams  with  mine? 

And  oh,  what  tragic  purpose  of  the  stars 
Denied  to  us  the  guerdon  and  the  faith, 

Giving  the  yearning  only  and  the  prayer, — 
The  word  we  whisper  through  the  iron  bars 
Of  absence  to  Love's  melancholy  wraith. 
Kissing  the  avid  mouth  that  is  not  there! 


ALTER  EGO 

In  some  strange  way  I  do  not  understand. 
You  seem  to  be  another  self  of  mine 
Newly  discovered.     At  the  hidden  shrine 

Where  none  save  me  has  ever  made  demand 

I  found  you  worshipping,  and  hand  to  hand 
You  met  my  challenge  with  the  countersign. 
What  magic  weaver  did  our  ways  entwine, 

Ini  what  long  dead  and  unremembered  land  ? 
121 


And  when  I  sang  to  you  my  secret  song. 
The  yearning  heart-cry  only  known  to  me, 
At  the  first  note  you  joined  the  melody, 

Bass  to  my  treble,  confident  and  strong, 
And  firmly  touched  the  one  elusive  key 

In  that  grand  chord  that  I  had  sought  so  long. 


THE  HOROSCOPE 

O  RADIANT  angel  of  my  ruling  star! 
Read  me  the  story  of  the  horoscope 
That  sent  this  lover,  for  I  darkly  grope 

Before  the  secrets  of  thy  calendar. 

Thou  knowest  all  things:  Tell  me,  is  it  far. 
The  day  that  wears  my  diadem  of  hope. 
When  I  shall  know  Love's  plenitude  and  scope, 

And  all  his  hidden  wonders  as  they  are? 

How  blinded  are  we  mortals  by  our  birth !  — 
How  poor!  —  how  powerless  in  our  joy  or  sorrow 
The  capital  of  Destiny  to  borrow, 

Whatever  wealth  our  future  may  be  worth! 

Though  I  should  give  the  glory  of  the  earth, 
I  could  not  buy  one  whisper  of  to-morrow! 


122 


THE  DREAM 

I  DREAMED  last  night  you  were  a  little  child, 
A  man-child  that  I  nourished  at  my  breast; 
Dreamed    that   your   mouth  —  which   never   yet   pos- 
sessed 

Even  my  mouth  —  drank  of  me  in  that  wild 

And  intimate  nature-need.     Divinely  mild, 
They  say  of  motherhood?     Ah,  no;  but  blest 
Beyond  all  peace  that  exquisite  unrest. 

Drawing  my  life  to  yours,  dream-child,  man-child! 

I  have  been  still  with  wonder  all  day  long. 

The  nameless  thrill  that  only  women  feel 
Yearns  in  my  bosom  yet,  so  passion-strong 

Were  your  dream-lips,  so  poignant  the  appeal. 

And  all  my  world  is  signed  with  your  sweet  seal. 
And  all  my  veins  are  tremulous  with  song. 


THE  AVOWAL 

I  THINK  God,  when  the  river  of  live  stars 

Flowed  glittering  from  His  fingers,  must  have  known 
A  joy  like  mine  when,  in  your  deep  man-tone, 

You  breathed  the  words,  **  I  love  you !  "     Flaming  Mars 

Watched  in  the  West,  and,  Saturn's  golden  bars 
Guarded  us  from  the  world.  We  two  alone 
In  that  full-peopled  solitude,  had  flown 

Beyond  the  reckoning  of  man's  calendars, 

123 


And  stood  at  time's  beginning.     You  and  I! 
Why,  there  was  nothing  else  between  the  sea 
And  God's  far  footstool  in  the  Pleiades! 
**  I  love  you !  "     With  that  strong,  ecstatic  cry. 
You  opened  Faith's  wide  temple  doors  for  me. 
And  brought  my  startled  spirit  to  its  knees. 


CONSUMMATION 

Look  in  mine  eyes.  Beloved!     Is  it  true 

That  you  and  I  have  found  each  other  now? 

And  when  I  smooth  the  dear  hair  from  your  brow, 
Do  I  touch  you,  and  not  the  shadow  of  you 
That  I  have  known  in  dreams  the  slow  years  through? 

My  soul  made  long  ago  its  maiden  vow 

Before  no  other  than  its  mate  to  bow 
In  spiritual  submission;  for  it  knew  — 
Beloved  brother  of  the  Inner  Shrine!  — 

That  in  the  long  procession  of  the  years. 

Slow,  weighted  down  with  destiny's  arrears. 
One  laurel-crowned  would  bring  me  what  was  mine. 

Now  I  will  melt  the  pearl  that  was  my  tears, 
And  pledge  you  in  Love's  sweet  and  bitter  wine. 


194 


LOVE'S  FEARLESSNESS 

Love  comes  to  me  with  nothing  in  his  hand. 

And  in  his  eyes  promise  of  many  tears. 

Between  our  yearning  lives  the  gulf  of  years 
Yawns  emptily  —  and  never  to  be  spanned! 
Our  feet  are  deep  in  the  uncertain  sand 

Of  the  world's  ways,  its  noise  is  in  our  ears; 

The  future,  lying  in  wait,  is  big  with  fears 
And  prophecies  we  cannot  understand. 

Yet  bravely  have  we  pledged  Love,  eye  to  eye. 
Challenging  Fate  to  do  her  worst  with  us. 
And  though  the  murky  clouds  are  ominous. 

Broad  wing  to  wing,  our  spirits  dare  the  sky. 
Seeking  in  faith  to  find  that  marvellous 

Ethereal  temple  where  Love's  jewels  lie. 


THE  WINDS  OF  FATE 

What  mighty  wind  from  Fate's  unfathomed  seas 
Has  blown  our  flame-winged  spirits  to  this  height 
Outside  of  space  and  time?     The  blinding  light 

Which  dazzles  us  —  whence  comes  it  ?  and  this  breeze 

Sweet  with  mysterious  fragrance,  that  so  frees 
Our  souls  from  little  rules  of  wrong  and  right, 
From  what  rose-bowers  of  interstellar  night. 

Love,  does  it  come  so  fraught  with  prophecies? 

125 


I  guess  God's  purpose ;  but  I  dare  not  pray. 
Lest  He  should  change  it,  as  my  punishment 
For  being  over-bold.     So  let  us  wait 
Here  between  earth  and  sky,  till  He  shall  say 
Loud  in  our  ears  the  wonder  that  He  meant 
In  leaving  us  alone  with  brooding  Fate. 


THE  MOON  PATH 

Last  night  the  moon  made  over  the  dark  sea 
A  path  of  gold  so  real,  that  had  I  laid 
My  hand  in  thine,  and  had  not  been  afraid. 

We  might  have  walked  together,  firm  and  free. 

Out  of  this  hollow  world  of  phantasy. 

And  crossed  the  threshold  of  God's  house,  and  made 
Our  home  among  the  angels.  .  .  .  Now,  dismayed. 

Love,  I  can  only  stand  and  gaze  at  thee. 

The  path  is  gone,  the  moon  is  gone,  and  I  — 
I  too  shall  soon  be  with  remembered  things 

That   tear    the    heart    with    yearning.     When    the 
moon 
Lays  next  that  golden  pathway  to  the  sky, 

I  shall  have  hidden  my  tears  in  God's  wide  wings, 
And  thou  wilt  hear  alone  the  sea's  sad  croon. 


126 


THE  FOG 

Grey  as  the  tangled  locks  of  haggard  Fate, 
And  wet  as  the  midnight  pillow  of  a,  nun. 
Whose  chaste  and  pallid  bridegroom  with  the  sun 

Vanished  at  evening,  the  disconsolate, 

iMad  fog  envelops  us.  The  sea's  long  hate 
Is  in  the  siren's  screech,  and  one  by  one 
The  wan  waves  hiss  behind  us,  and  we  run 

With  blinded  eyes  toward  an  unseen  gate. 

God  answers  man  by  symbols.     When  he  laid 
This  veil  of  mysteries  in  our  ship's  wide  way. 
He  meant  that  we  should  read  and  understand. 
Why,  even  God,  with  his  great  cavalcade 
Of  keen,  detective  angels,  cannot  say 

Whether  our  goal  be  Love's  unbounded  land! 


THE  GIFT  OF  PAIN 

I  PITY  happy  lovers,  who  have  found 

No  rocks  across  their  pathway.     They  will  go 
Down  to  the  dust  like  little  flowers  that  blow 

In  dull  domestic  gardens,  and  Life's  ground 

Will  be  no  richer  for  them.     We,  soul-bound 
By  the  world's  rusty  chains,  hurled  to  and  fro- 
The  playthings  of  the  elements,  we  know 

What  beauty  hides  in  pain's  last  dark  profound. 

127 


And  if  to-morrow  this  vast  pyramid 

Of  grief  should  crumble,  and  joy's  tender  green 
Sprout  in  our  desert,  could  our  hearts  unlearn 
Their  turned-down  page  of  sorrow?     God  forbid! 
Should  we  not  oft,  remembering,  stand  and  lean 
Together  toward  these  flames  that  sear  and  burn? 


THE  THEFT 

Between  your  burning  body  and  your  soul, 

How  quick  the  choice  that  I  would  leap  to  make. 
Were  choice  demanded  of  me!     I  would  take 

One  last  look  in  your  eyes,  and  seek  the  goal 

Where  fleshless   spectres   gather  round  Life's  bowl. 
Invisible,  intangible;  would  slake 
My  thirst  of  passion  only  with  love's  ache. 

Rather  than  yield  your  spirit.     When  Fate  stole 

The  gem  from  my"  betrothal  ring,  she  left 
Its  pearly  radiance  with  me,  and  I  live 
Now  only  for  the  light  that  it  can  give  — 

I  who  of  all  sad  souls|  am  most  bereft. 

Be  sure  God's  justice,  deep,  compensative. 

Will  pay  our  spirits  for  this  body's  theft. 


128 


THE  QUESTIONER 

I  QUESTION  the  cold  stars  that  answer  not; 
I  ask  of  the  deep  sea  that  hugged  so  long 
Our  secret  to  her  bosom;  even  my  song 

With  queries  have  I  challenged,  for  my  thought 

Burns  with  the  passion  to  unsnarl  this  knot 
Wherein  our  lives  are  tangled.     Pallid  wrong. 
And  right,  whose  beauty  lies  in  being  strong, 

These,  too,  with  riddles  has  my  soul  besought. 

And  still  the  answer  waits.     Now  will  I  call 
Loud  to  your  soul.  Beloved,  with  my  soul 
Across  the  leagues  of  distance.     Only  you 
Are  high  enough  to  gaze  above  this  wall. 

And  learned  enough  to  read  this  hidden  scroll 
Whose  symbols  spell  the  true  and  the  untrue. 


THE  ANSWER 

You  are  God's  answer  to  me  in  the  dark. 

Blind  in  the  human  wilderness  I  sought 

The  road  of  my  redemption,  and  I  wrought 
A  chain  of  devious  footsteps.     But  one  spark 
Fell  from  my  star's  cold  lantern  for  a  mark 

Of  divination,  and  I  doubted  not. 

And  one  spring  day  the  desert  river  brought 
A  boat,  whose  music  lured  me  to  embark. 
129 


Down  from  the  prow  you  came  and  took  my  hand. 
Drawing  aside  the  veil  that  blinded  me  — 
The  veil  of  old  illusions.     Now  I  see 

Clearly  the  land  I  leave,  and  understand 
Even  illusion's  purpose.     Fearlessly 

I  sail  with  you  to  the  undiscovered  land. 


LOVE  MADNESS 

If  this  be  madness,  God,  I  would  not  draw 

Ever  the  curtains  of  weak  sanity 

Between  me  and  Life's  face.     When  I  am  free 
Under  the   aegis   of  Love's   ancient  law. 
Why  should  I  choose  the  shackles  and  the  straw 

Of  common  life,  or  bend  the  subject  knee 

To  dull,  plebeian  wisdom.^     Let  me  be 
Mad  with  the  gods  awhile,  mad  with  the  awe 
And  wonder  of  this  magic,  which  has  made 

Of  one  man's  word  the  measure  of  all  truth. 
Of  one  man's  eyes  the  vast  starred  firmament; 
And  in  the  closure  of  his  hand  has  laid 

The  dew-wet  roses  of  immortal  youth. 

And  the  bread  and  wine  of  Love's  great  sacrament. 


180 


THE  VOYAGE 

Fearless  of  life  and  challenging  the  Fates, 
With  you  I  venture  in  this  fragile  bark 
To  cross  the  waters  of  the  perilous  dark 

Beyond  desire's  attainment.     What  word  waits 

For  us  in  the  great  calm  that  separates 

The  known  from  the  unknown?     What  symbols  mark 
The  star-scroll  of  the  great  Mysteriarch 

As  he  our  destined  way  premeditates? 

This  voyage,  Dear,  eludes  all  prophecy. 

And  we  will  whisper  neither  vow  nor  prayer 

As  we  embark.     Love's  promised  land,  maybe. 
Beyond  the  reach  of  pity  or  despair, 
Will  be  the  harbour  of  our  souls  that  dare 

The  waves  of  this  unfathomable  sea. 


THE  MOMENT 

Though  to  the  gods  our  lives  may  be  supreme 
When  rounded  unto  death,  and  though  some  dear 
Remembered  joy  may  jewel  some  lost  year 

Until  pure  gold  its  very  shadows  seem; 

Yet  this  one  moment  when  we  grasp  our  dream  — 
The  spirit-fusing  moment  that  is  here. 
Is  the  reflecting  surface  of  a  sphere 

Complete   and  isolate  in   Time's   full   stream. 


131 


I  need  no  future,  Love,  beyond  this  mark 

Upon  the  disc  of  ages,  for  I  hold 
Eternity  within  my  arms,   and  hark 

To  hear  Time's  clock  strike  twelve.     The  word  is  told 
That  I  have  listened  for  so  long  in  the  dark. 

And  all  Love's  mystic  parchment  is  unrolled. 


LOVE'S  HOUR  OF  SILENCE 

In  this  the  tenderest  of  all  Love's  hours. 
When  soul  to  soul  unquestioning  we  lie 
Against  the  silence,  and  Life's  flood  rolls  by, 

Red  with  the  petals  of  his  ravished  flowers. 

Stirring  within  my  breast  I  feel  strange  powers 
Before  unknown;  and  burning  in  thine  eye 
I  read  new  purposes,  that  amplify 

Into  all  time  these  little  lives  of  ours. 

This  is  the  test  that  lesser  lovers  fear  — 

This  unveiled  hour  when  the  free  heart  lies  bare 
Before  its  brother.     And  our  spirits  dare 

To   breathe  together   this   high   atmosphere! 
Give  m<e  again  thine  eyes,  that  we  may  share 

The  intimate  stillness  —  nearer  and  more  near. 


182 


PLENITUDE 

So  long  have  I  desired  thee,  and  so  deep 

My  heart's  hid  spring,  whose  waters  sung  thy  name 

Over  and  over  till  the  restless  flame 
Of  Life  stood  still  to  listen,  that  I  weep 
Now  when  I  have  thee  in  my  arms,  to  keep 

Forever.     My  Beloved,  I  became 

So  perfected  in  thee,  I  have  no  aim 
Beyond  thee,  and  no  harvests  more  to  reap! 

So  still  is  all  the  world,  I  feel  afraid ! 

Is  this  that  mystic  silence,  by  whose  power 
The  waiting  spirits  of  the  void  are  made 

In  mortal  mould?     I  feel  my  bridal  bower 
Transcendently  enlarged,  myself  —  dismayed  — 

A  dazed  intruder  on  God's  working  hour. 


THE  INSCRIPTION 

Sealed  with  the  seal  of  Life,  thy  soul  and  mine 
Are  one  this  day,  and  we  have  graven  our  date 
Of  recognition  on  Time's  ponderous  gate. 

Staining  the  letters  deep  with  love-spilled  wine. 

Neither  the  fire  of  death  nor  the  strong  brine 
Of  the  world's  waters  can  obliterate 
That  record,  and  the  steady  hand  of  Fate 

Under  the  words  has  drawn  a  strange  design. 
133 


They  are  an  incantation^  justified 

Upon  our  lips  by  the  incarnate  Breath. 

The  measure  of  their  potency  is  wide 

As  the  world's  orbit;  for  God  promiseth 

Unto  all  love-inscriptions  that  abide. 

Power  and  dominion  over  life  and  death. 


CONSECRATED 

Since  yesterday's  communion  when  I  saw 

Love's  consecrating  presence  in  your  eyes. 
The  world's  familiar  ways  seem  otherwise 

Than  I  have  ever  known  them.     Hushed  with  awe, 

I  contemplate  some  common  little  law 

Of  evolving  life;  I  tremble  with  surprise 
At  new,  undreamed-of  beauties  that  arise 

To  fill  the  place  of  many  an  ancient  flaw. 

And  every  one  I  meet  along  the  way 

Turns  round  to  gaze  with  eager  questioning 
Into  my  face.     Beloved,  do  I  bring 
Some  wordless  message  for  the  world  to-day. 
From  that  love-hallowed  garden  where  we  lay 
One  golden  hour  beside  God's  living  spring.? 


184 


DUALITY 

Art  thou  that  Love  who  came  with  touch  of  fire 
But  yesterday,  in  whose  impelling  eyes 
Smouldered  the  avid  flame  that  terrifies 

The  angels  by  its  vision  of  desire 

Unutterable?     To-day  the  seraph  choir 
Holds  not  a  face  that  worship  glorifies 
Like  to  thy  face.     Its  beauty  prophesies 

Fulfilment  to  all  spirits  that  aspire. 

Thou  art  the  dual  mystery  of  the  soul, 

O  human  Love!     Standing  with  buried  feet 
In  the  rose-dust  of  earth,  sodden  and  sweet. 

Thou  reachest  yearningly  to  thy  far  goal 

Beyond  the  zenith,  while  thine  aureole 

Flamies  gold  and  red  where  dust  and  spirit  meet. 


THE  MIRACLE 

Among  the  hills  and  valleys  of  the  soul. 
Working  his  miracles.  Love  came  to  me 
And  touched  my  blinded  eyes  and  bade  me  see. 

I  watch  the  water  redden  in  the  bowl, 

I  drink  the  marriage  wine.     Upon  the  scroll 
Of  Life  I  trace  the  Word  of  prophecy 
In  flaming  letters;  my  mortality 

Burns  on  this  altar  as  a  living  coal. 


135 


Many  of  Love's  disciples  have  pursued 

His  wandering  steps  with  worldly  dreams  and  wishes; 
Many  have  climbed,  as  for  a  festival, 
The  mountain  where  he  feeds  the  multitude. 

For  them  the  counting  of  the  loaves  and  fishes, 
For  me  —  the  wonder  of  the  miracle ! 


IN  LOVE'S  EYES 

Thine  eyes  are  magic  mirrors,  where  I  see 
My  own  reflected  in  some  marvellous  wise 
Beyond  man's  knowledge;  and  long  thoughts  arise. 

Questioning  this  familiar  mystery. 

I  feel  the  dual  souls  of  thee  and  me 
Mirror  each  other,  even  as  our  eyes. 
Whose  mutual,  clear  reflection  verifies 

On  earth  our  vision  of  Love's  unity. 

In  our  souls,  too,  I  feel  the  kindred  souls 
Of  all  mankind  reflected,  by  the  light 
Of  my  strong  racial  faith.     Oh,  that  their  sight 

Could  quicken  to  that  dream !     For  Love  unrolls 
Wide  vistas  for  us  when  our  eyes  unite  — 

Seeking  his  unimaginable  goals. 


186 


THE  THRUSH 

O  WAKEN,  Love,  and  listen  to  the  thrush. 
That  sings  us  back  into  the  world  again 
After  our  night  in  heaven !     How  his  chain 
Of  golden  notes  is  clasped  by  that  brief  hush  — 
That  pearl  of  thrilling  silence,  till  the  rush 
Of  his  own  feeling  spills  his  notes  like  rain 
Upon  the  breast  of  Dawn!     This  bird  has  lain. 
Like  us,  against  Night's  cheek,  and  feels  it  flush 
Now  with  the  sun's  warm  nearness. —  Love  of  mine. 
We  too  have  found  that  pearl  of  silent  peace    -* 
Between  two  chains  of  joy,  each  like  a  trill 
Of  this  inspired  bird.  .  .  .  Listen!     'Tis  a  sign 
From  the  angels  left  in  Dreamland,  to  increase 
Our  faith  that  they  can  find  us  when  they  will. 


A  VISION 

Seen  through  the  dusky  foliage  of  my  hair, 
Your  face  is  shimmering  with  that  mystic  light 
Which  bathes  the  spellbound  earth  on  some  rare  night 

In  summer  after  sunset.     Spirits  there 

Hide  and  reveal  themselves,  shyly  aware 
Of  their  own  beauty.     Wonder  and  delight. 
Like  starbeams,  flit  before  me,  and  excite 

My  vision  till  its  ecstasy  is  prayer. 


137 


Are  other  mortals  given  in  Love's  arms 
Ethereal  revelations  like  to  mine? 

Surely  the  gods  withhold  not  the  great  boon 
Ungenerously,  nor  blind  with  wizard  charms 
The  eyes  of  those  on  whose  indiflPerence  shine 
The  passionate  stars  and  rapture-dazzled  moon. 


THE  MYSTIC  ROSE 

I,  Woman,  am  that  wonder-breathing  rose 
That  blossoms  in  the  garden  of  the  King. 
In  all  the  world  there  is  no  lovelier  thing, 

And  the  learned  stars  no  secret  can  disclose 

Deeper  than  mine  —  that  almost  no  one  knows. 
The  perfume  of  my  petals  in  the  spring 
Is  inspiration  to  all  bards  that  sing 

Of  love,  the  spirit's  lyric  unrepose. 

Under  my  veil  is  hid  the  mystery 

Of  unaccomplished  aeons,  and  my  breath 
The  Master-Lover's  life  replenisheth. 
The  mortal  garment  that  is  worn  by  me 
The  loom  of  Time  renews  continually; 

And  when  I  die  —  the  universe  knows  death. 


188 


INDIRECTION 

You  marvel  at  the  beauty  that  I  see 
In  every  line  and  loving  curve  of  you. 
As  if  a  triumphing  archangel  blew 

On  the  dull  coals  of  earth's  reality. 

Until  they  blaze  so  high  v^^ith  ecstasy 

That  God  looks  down  and  wonders.     But  I  drew 
Love's  veil  for  other  reasons,  and  I  knew 

The  human  joys  through  heart's  intensity. 

They  who  pursue  Love's  pleasures  only  find 
An  empty  goblet  at  the  journey's  goal; 

But  Love's  grail-pilgrim,  with  his  different  aim. 
Opens  the  very  door  they  grope  behind. 

Because  I  sought  the  temple  of  Love's  soul, 
I  have  become  the  very  altar  flame. 


AURORA  BOREALIS 

Even  as  the  glory  of  the  northern  lights 

On   some  still  winter  midnight  strike!  the  soul 
Spellbound  with  visions,  and  the  boreal  pole 

Seems  like  a  flaming  ladder  that  unites 

Heaven  and  earth;  so.  Love,  thy  beauty  smites 
My  spirit  dumb  with  wonder,  and  the  whole 
Sky  of  my  life  burns  with  the  aureole 

Of  your  bright  being  blazing  on  the  heights. 


139 


Stranger  is  Love,  more  fraught  with  mystery 
Than  yon  weird  pageant  in  the  northern  sky. 

'Twas  the  lone  midnight  of  my  destiny 

When  through  the  void  you  came  to  glorify 

With  light  the  cold,  dark  firmament  of  me  .  .  . 
Yea,  and  I  know  not  whence  you,  came,  nor  why ! 


THE  BODY 

O  TALL  white  lily  with  thy  dark  roots  held 

And  hidden  by  the  ministering  mire! 

Thy  petals  are  the  luminous  attire 
Of  the  indwelling  Spirit,  that  compelled 
Its  flame  to  mix  with  earth,  and  parallelled 

The  light  with  darkness.     Blossom  of  cold  fire. 

Beautiful  form,  yearning  with  blind  desire. 
Now  to  the  dust,  now  to  the  stars  impelled! 

Oh,  why  will  man  debase  thee  in  his  thought! 
Thou  art  so  fair,  so  pure,  so  undefiled, — 
A  wandering'  angel  from  the  skies  exiled 

For  thy  seditious  sweetness.  .  .  .  What  power  wrought 
Of  dust  this  lily  flower  —  unreconciled 

As  yet  with  man,  who  understands  it  not} 


140 


ASLEEP 

Beyond  the  boundaries  of  dream  he  lies. 

Wrapt  in  the  veil  of  immemorial  Sleep. 

The  far-off  murmur  of  the  rhythmic  deep 
Of  Being  is  his  breath;  it  magnifies 
My  soul  that  studies  with  illumined  eyes 

This  ageless  mystery  that  mortals  keep. 

Spellbound  I  watch,  too  quiet  now  to  weep; 
My  ears  have  caught  the  silence  of  the  wise. 

O  Sleep,  pale  prophet  of  immortal  rest  — 
Sleep  that  relieves  the  angel  of  the  clod! 

Rocked  on  the  waves  of  dream  that  manifest 
The  Spirit  to  the   seed  within  the  sod, 

The  slumberer  sees  the  shadow  of  his  quest. 
And  wakens,  wondering  at  the  ways  of  God. 


THE  INDWELLING  MYSTERY 

Sometimes  when  you  have  held  me  to  your  breast, 

A  mystic  interfusion  there  has  been 

Through  all  our  woven  beings.     I  have  seen 
Our  separate  atoms  on  some  secret  quest 
Quiver  into  each  other,  and  then  rest 

In  ecstasy  of  union;  while  between 

Our  minds  was  only  Life's  transparent  screen  — 
The  real  magician's  long-sought  alkahest. 


141 


Little  we  know  —  we  duU^  dust-blinded  ones  — 
The  mysteries  of  the  spirit  and  the  clay! 

Along  your  kiss  —  your  lightest  touch  —  there  runs 
The  mute  electric  word  the   stars  obey; 

And  the  same  power  that  moves  those  whirling  suns, 
Vibrates  in  every  love  word  that  you  say. 


AT  THE  SUMMIT 

Oh,  it  were  worth  the  toiling  all  the  way 

Up  the  steep  mountain  on  whose  rocks  man  dies, 
Only  to  look  in  another  being's  eyesi 

Once,  as  I  gaze  in  yours  day  after  day! 

Below  us  in  the  valley  all  is  grey; 

Above  the  deep  love-river  the  fog  lies. 
And  through  it  groping  spirits  in  disguise 

Peer  at  each  other  with  a  veiled  dismay. 

'Twas  there  we  met,  bewildered,  face  to  face; 

There  we  joined  hands,  beginning  the  long  ascent 
Of  that  divine  acclivity,  whose  base 

Is  mortised  in  Creation's  fundament. 
And  whose  unmeasured  summit  marks  the  place 

Of  Love's  last  unimaginable  event. 


142 


THE  GUEST 

An  hour  ago  the  world  was  dull  and  grey. 
And  my  lone  heart,  a  prisoner  in  my  breast. 
Beat  at  the  iron  doors  of  Fate,  oppresst 

By  its  own  heaviness.     Now  the  glad  day 

Laughs  at  the  window,  and  the  minutes  play 
Lightly  with  one  another;  for  a  guest  — 
Great  Love  himself  —  has  entered  in  and  blest 

My  heart's  house  in  his  own  amazing  way. 

His  lovely  hand  laid  softly  on  my  hair 
Is  like  the  Muse's  touch;  and  looking  up, 
I  read  within  his  eyes  the  long-sought  word 
That     rounds     my     life's     great     lyric.  .  .  .  Shall 
dare.^*  .  .  . 
Yea,  in  my  new-found  strength,  I  lift  Love's  cup. 
That  sacred  cup  by  God  administered. 


THE  WATCHER 

When  I  awake  from  Love's  contented  sleep. 

And  see  thee,  sleepless,  bending  over  me 

In  mystical  and  brooding  ecstasy. 
Then  do  I  know  thy  love  to  be  more  deep 
Than  all  thy  words  have  said.     Then  could  I  weep 

With  very  awe  and  wonderment  in  thee. 

Through  the  night  hours,  in  hushed  solemnity. 
Thy  soul  and  Love  a  secret  vigil  keep. 

143 


Fearful  is  Love  lest  any  step  surprise 

The  temple  of  his  worship.     He  would  hide 
The  altar  his  white  flowers  have  glorified 

From  every  gaze  but  God's.     O  Love,  thine  eyes! 

Their  self-abandonment  has  made  mie  wise 
In  hidden  knowledge  where  men's  souls  abide. 


IN  THE  DAWN-CHAMBER 

Dear,  you  have  spoiled  all  other  men  for  me. 
And  made  them  alien  to  my  happiness. 
You  have  discovered  an  unknown  recess 

In  Love's  great  house  of  storied  masonry. 

There  from  the  window's  wide  expectancy 

We  watch  the  Dawn's  rose-dimpled  hands  caress 
The  shadowed  hills  —  Dawn  the  high  priestess. 

That  calls  the  rolling  world  continually. 

The  other  rooms  in  Love's  house  are  confined 

To  views  of  the  valley,  and  the  walls  adorning 
Are  mottoes  of  uncertainty  and  warning  — 

The  thousand  reservations  of  the  mind. 

*Tis  only  in  this  chamber  that  I  find 

The  outlook  on  the  hills  and  on  the  morning. 


IM 


WHY 

You  ask  me  why  my  heart  so  fondly  clings 
Around  your  heart  of  love.  ...  Is  it  because 
High  deeds  of  yours  have  won  the  world's  applause? 

Is  it  that  your  inspired  imaginings 

Have  stirred  to  wilder  flight  my  lyric  wings? 
Or  is  it  that  your  yearning  passion  draws 
Blindly  my  own^  by  Love's  mysterious  laws? 

Nay,  Dear,  not  any  of  these  perfect  things. 

Why  do  I  love  you,  then?     Because  of  this: 
My  soul  discovered,  when  our  days  were  new. 
That  a  high  guest  in  your  soul's  chamber  lies ; 
And  sometimes,  in  the  rapture  of  your  kiss. 
That  angel  sleeper  —  the  immortal  You  — 
A  moment  wakes  and  looks  me  in  the  eyes. 


THE  GENTLE  ONE 

No  one  would  ever  know  from  your  calm  face 

How  more  than  human-sweet  you  are!     There  lies. 
Maybe,  a  dreamy  something  in  your  eyes  — 

A  promise,  like  the  perfume  round  a  place 

Where  roses  bloom;  and  though  all  eyes  may  trace 
Your  mouth's  love-moulded  lines,  none  would  surmise 
The  mother-tenderness  that  sanctifies 

The  man's  need  in  your  soul-diffused  embrace. 


145 


O  hands,  whose  touch  holds  all  the  gentleness 

Of  brooding  dove-wings  in  the  mellow  night! 
O  mouth  of  blood-warm  rose  leaves,  whose  caress 
Quivers  through  me  in  waves  of  vibrant  light! 
Ye  are  as  potent  as  the  yearning  Spring, 
That  stirs  the  earth  to  lyric  blossoming. 


CARESSES 

The  sweet  caresses  that  I  give  to  you 

Are  but  the  perfume  of  the  Rose  of  Love, 
The  colour  and  the  witchery  thereof. 

And  not  the  Rose  itself.     Each  is  a  clue 

Merely,  whereby  to  seek  the  hidden,  true. 
Substantial  blossom.     Like  the  Jordan  dove, 
A  kiss  is  but  a  symbol  from  above  — 

An  emblem  the  Reality  shines  through. 

The  Rose  of  Love  is  ever  unrevealed 
In  all  its  beauty,  for  the  sight  of  it 

Were  perilous  to  the  purpose  of  the  world. 
The  hand  of  Life  has  cautiously  concealed 
The  pollen-chambers  of  the  infinite 

Flower,  and  its  petals  only  half  uncurled. 


146 


FULFILMENT 

I  AM  SO  empty  and  so  incomplete. 

Save  when  your  lips  on  my  lips  realise 
For  me  my  own  fulfilment.     Life  denies 

Its  own  abundance  save  when  two  lives  meet. 

Within  your  arms  is  all  I  know  of  sweet. 
And  all  I  need  of  heaven.     When  I  rise 
From  your  embrace,  I  feel  a  vague  surprise 

A  sundering  from  my  forehead  to  my  feet. 

You  are  the  key  of  every  kind  event, 
You  open  all  the  doors  of  joy  to  me. 

Your  being  and  my  being,  interblent 
As  the  sea  and  the  saltness  of  the  sea. 

Are  one  inevitable  element 

In  the  great  crucible  of  Destiny. 


THE  STORM-LORD 

O  SOVEREIGN  of  the  storm !     Thy  breath  to  me  — 
Vivid  with  lightning,  vibrant  with  the  sound 
Of  that  original  Word  that  hurled  the  round 

Of  stars  and  suns  —  is  intimate  and  free 

As  my  own  soul.     I  care  not  though  for  thee 
My  unripe  fruit  is  fallen  on  the  ground. 
And  all  my  tender  little  leaves  are  drowned. 

Life  must  renew  itself  in  death's  dark  sea. 


147 


Lover  supreme!     Imperious  lord  of  storm! 

To  be  with  thee  my  soul  all  fear  denies. 
And  as  the  ardent  earth's  desires  turn  warm 

To  meet  the  lightning  triumphing  down  the  skies^ 
So  to  thy  passion  my  responding  form 

Thrills  with  the  flame  that  melts  and  glorifies. 


THE  CUP 

The  golden  Jennshid,  so  the  Persians  say, 
Possessed  a  magic  cup  with  seven  rings 
That  —  filled  with  wine  —  reflected  myriad  things : 

The  secrets  of  the  seven  worlds  that  sway 

Between  the  voids,  their  morrow,  their  to-day, 
Their  yesterday;  and  the  imaginings 
Of  every  soul  that  sorrows,  dreams  or  sings. 

From  dim  creation's  dawn  to  the  last  day. 

Thy  body,  my  Beloved,  is  for  me 

That  magic  cup;  my  love  is  the  red  wine. 
In  thee  the  wonders  of  the  worlds  are  mine. 

The  secrets  of  the  stars  and  of  the  sea. 
The  avid  prayers  of  every  alien  shrine. 

All  Jemshid's  cup  revealed,  I  find  in  thee. 


148 


THE  SANCTUARY 

Our  forms.  Beloved,  lie  in  faith's  white  bed. 
Lavender-fragrant    linen   covers   them, 
And  underneath  is  a  robe  whose  broidered  hem 

Was  sewn  by  the  great  Spinner's  measured  thread. 

A  red  rose  guards  their  feet,  and  at  their  head 
A  tall  white  lily  leans  upon  a  stem 
Whose  roots  are  in  that  deathless  anadem 

Which  bound  Love's  brows  when  he  and  Life  were  wed. 

The  wavering  flame  of  one  lone  candle  gives 
Their  image  to  the  shadows;  and  they  seem 

As  in  a  midnight  chapel,  fugitives 
Before  the  altar  light's  ideal  stream. 

Love,  through  this  veil  of  Beauty  all  that  lives 
In  every  world  is  softened  to  a  dream. 


LOVE'S  AVATARS 

Love,  in  what  alcove  of  eternity 

Have  thou  and  I  this  marvel  found  before  - 

This  glamour  of  desire  that  quivers  o'er 
Our  bodies  and  our  souls  with  certainty 
Of  the  supreme  attainment.^     Where  were  we 

Wound  in  this  vine  the  ages  now  restore? 

Where  did  I  drain  the  cup  that  evermore 
Will  fill  my  veins  with  ecstasy  in  thee? 


149 


The  shadows  of  thy  leaf-brown  hair  have  been 
The  veil  of  many  bygone  dreams  of  mine; 

And  thy  deep  eyes,  that  mine  are  mirrored  in. 
Are  filled  with  memories  and  wondershine. 

Ay,  every  door  of  love  to  which  we  win. 
We  open  by  some  ancient  countersign. 


CREATION 

Hidden  in  thee  abounding  wonders  lie. 

And  wait  to  be  made  visible  by  me; 

For  through  the  medium  of  our  unity 
We  touch  that  reservoir  of  world-supply 
Where  rest  the  forms,  for  Love  to  magnify. 

Of  all  the  houseless  souls  that  are  to  be. 

Tenuous,  waiting  in  eternity 
To  live,  to  love,  to  suffer  and  to  die. 

The  arch-creative  mission  is  Love's  own  — 
Moulder  of  substance!  kindler  of  the  mind! 
Call  of  the  spirit!     And  while  one  alone 
May  compass  knowledge,  in  the  Self  enshrined. 

Only  the  lover  in  his  joy  has  known 
Origination  after  his  own  kind. 


160 


LOVE'S  INFINITY 

Though  I  have  given  all  my  love  to  thee, 
Abundance  measureless  remains  behind. 
Freely  I  give,  for  thou  wilt  never  find 

A  barrier  to  my  soul's  infinity 

Of  tenderness  or  passion.     Canst  thou  see 

The  outposts  of  the  void,  the  bournes  that  bind 
The  star-mote's  journey  and  the  will  of  the  wind? 

They  are  no  farther  than  the  marge  of  me! 

Boundless  I  am  as  the  star-dancing  deep 

Reflected  in  this  bubble  that  is  I. 
Gaze  till  thine  eyes  are  weary,  and  then  sleep 

Within  the  bosom  of  the  mirrored  sky. 
Love  has  no  limit  that  I  need  to  keep. 

Love  has  no  terror  that  I  need  to  fly. 


THE  SEAL 

The  lips  of  my  pure  Love  have  set  their  seal 
Upon  the  hidden  chamber  of  my  soul, 
And  all  my  being's  house  yields  him  control 

Even  my  haughty  self.     Yet  his  appeal 

Is  to  be  servitor!     I  saw  him  kneel 

Here  at  my  feet,  as  at  some  sacred  goal; 
As  a  knight  of  old  before  that  mystic  bowl 

Whose  ultimate  beauty  earth  may  not  reveal. 


151 


I  lay  my  soul  fearlessly  in  his  hands. 

O  gift  that  in  the  giving  glorifies 
Me  more  than  the  gold  crowns  of  many  lands! 

Be  thou  to  him  the  rose  of  paradise.  .  .  . 
Only  the  rapt  ecstatic  understands 

The  lore  of  Love^  or  looks  Love  in  the  eyes. 


REALISATION 

Through  all  the  pageant  of  the  restless  years. 
Peopled  by  many  shadows,  I  have  known 
One  vision  the  world's  phantoms  leave  alone, 

One  dream  whose  beauty  dries  the  midnight  tears 

Of  loveless  desolation.     It  appears 

Ever  the  same  —  a?  soul  blent  with  my  own 
As  two  harmonious  lute-strings  in  one  tone, 

As  the  earth's  man-divided  hemispheres. 

Beloved,  when  you  came  to  me  I  knew 

You  mine,  yet  —  so  uncertain  does  life  seem  — 

I  did  not  realise  that  I  held  in  you 

The  hemisphere,  the  lute-string  and  the  dream 

To  perfect  me,  until  we  slowly  grew 

One  world,  one  tone,  one  vision  of  the  Supreme. 


15S 


THE  PRICE  OF  LOVE 

Heavy  the  price  that  I  have  paid  for  thee. 
Strange  Love,  in  whose  unfathomable  eyes 
The  radiant  God  has  veiled  in  thin  disguise 

The  full  reflection  of  His  majesty, 

That  else  were  unendurable  to  me 

By  sheer  excess  of  light.     But  I  am  wise 
For  every  bauble  that  I  sacrifice 

On  the  high  altar  of  thy  mystery. 

Nothing  is  had  for  nothing,  and  I  know 
How  trivial  is  the  price  that  I  have  paid. 
It  is  a  fabulous  bargain  I  have  made 
With  the  blind  traders  of  the  world ;  and  so 
I  set  Love's  jewel  on  my  brow,  and  go 
Into  the  blessed  stillness,  unafraid. 


LOVE'S  MYSTIC  JEWEL 

What  is  the  merit  of  our  souls  that  we 

Should  find  this  treasure  all  mankind  have  sought. 
And  died  in  seeking?     Other  souls  have  brought 

As  pure  a  purpose  -—  failing  utterly. 

Was  it  our  faith  which  won  for  thee  and  me 

The  substance  that  we  hoped  for?     Sages  taught 
Aeons  ago  that  everything  was  naught 

Beside  this  jewel  of  strange  potency. 

153 


Hope  trembles  at  his  shadow  on  the  ground;  ^ 

The  weary  world  labours  for  glittering  spoils 
That  turn  to  ashes,  and  all  lovers  sigh. 
But  thou  and  I,  Beloved,  we  have  found 
In  Time's  wild  ocean  after  many  toils, 

That  perfect  pearl  for  which  the  world  would  die. 


CONFESSION 

Yea,  Dear,  lay  bare  thy  lovely  soul,  nor  fear 
That  any  wraith  of  shame  can  enter  in 
This  guarded  house  of  faith,  nor  any  sin 

Darken  for  me  Love's  mirror,  crystal-clear 

For  all  thy  revelations.     Thou  art  peer 

Now  of  Love's  lofty  ones,  whose  heights  begin 
Always  in  humbleness,  and  thou  shalt  win 

A  pearl  of  rapture  for  thine  every  tear. 

My  love  is  reverent  as  the  virgin  prayer 
Whose  power  the  gate  of  paradise  unbars; 
My  love  is  tender  as  the  ecstasy 
Of  the  young  mother  as  she  grows  aware; 
And  full  of  understanding  as  the  stars 
That  shone  in  wonder  over  Galilee. 


154 


^  THE  PAST 

Had  I  the  power  to  wipe  away  the  past, 

That  past  replete  with  love  and  joy  and  pain 
In  which  thou  hadst  no  portion;  could  again 

My  Book  of  Life  be  opened,  and  my  vast 

Experience  be  shattered  by  a  blast 

Of  God's  great  trumpet, —  I  would  still  ordain 
Those  ways  that  are  accomplished,  and  remain 

Myself,  for  good  or  evil,  to  the  last. 

For  every  throb  of  love  has  been  to  me 
A  promise  of  thy  coming;  every  thrill 
Of  joy  a  prophecy  thou  shalt  fulfil. 

And  every  pang  of  pain  an  ecstasy 

Of  growing  knowledge.     But,  O  Love,  there  still 

Are  infinite  deeps  to  be  revealed  by  thee! 


THE    COVENANTEES 

I  WONDER,  Love,  how  you  and  I  did  live 
Before  we  found,  each  in  the  other's  eyes. 
This  covenant  of  faith  that  justifies 

Our  souls'  desires!     Homeless  and  fugitive 

Before  those  earthly  ministers  who  give 
Only  to  common  minds  the  master's  prize. 
We  have  eluded  their  world-honoured  lies. 

That  have  no  place  in  our  true  narrative. 


155 


How  did  I  live  ere  you  revealed  for  me 
The  testament  of  truth,  the  tenuous  veil 

Of  unseen  beauty,  and  the  verity 

Of   light's    clear  vrord?     Tender   and   human-frail 

You  are  with  love,  but  in  your  eyes  I  see 
Strange  visions  of  a  new  and  holier  grail. 


LOVE-SLEEP 

Yea,   let   me   sleep   among  the   murmuring  leaves 

Of  the  great  Tree  of  Love.     Why  should  I  wake? 

Even  in  dreams  our  wedded  spirits  make 
One  light  against  the  darkness.     Languor  weaves 
A  veil  to  cover  us,  and  Night  receives 

Our  beings  as  a  charge  for  Nature's  sake. 

Give  me  thy  lips.  Beloved,  and  then  shake 
Upon  my  lids  the  dews  of  all  Love's  eves. 

The  Tree  of  Love  is  waving  to  and  fro 
Upon  the  winds  of  midnight,  and  the  sigh 
Of  dreaming  leaves  is  like  a  lullaby 

Over  the  brooding  earth.     Far,  far  below 
A  planet  whispers,  and  our  low  reply 

Is  lost  in  the  dream-river's  overflow. 


156 


THE  MENACE 

When  I  remember,  Love,  that  but  for  thee 
My  homeless  spirit  still  would  wander  lone, 
Alien  in  this  inhospitable  zone 

Upon  the  globe  of  Time;  when  rapturously 

I  touch  the  gleaming  jewel  of  unity  — 

Whose  dual  rays  are  thy  soul  and  my  own  — 
Then  do  I  tremble  lest  the  masked  unknown 

Brigand  of  Death  snatch  thee  away  from  me. 

All  other  perils  we  can  brave  together. 

Challenging  them  to  part  us.     But  beyond 

The  shifting  boundaries  of  the  realm  of  breath 
Are  many  dangers  and  uncertain  weather. 
Nothing  can  rend  our  Nature-woven  bond 
Save  the  inexorable  caprice  of  Death. 


THE  HAND 

In  some  great  school  of  magic  long  ago, 

I  do  believe  a  mighty  master  taught 

Your  hand  its  potent  spell,  and  you  have  brought 
The  wonder  back  to  earth.     A  touch  —  and  lo ! 
Through  all  my  being  dreams  and  visions  flow. 

Upon  what  immemorial  loom  was  wrought 

The  fabric  of  this  feeling,  strong  as  thought. 
And  tenuous  as  the  weft  of  the  rainbow.'* 

157 


Your  touch  is  like  the  benedicite 

Of  all  divine  and  never-ending  things. 

Yea,  and  I  feel  in  every  vein  of  me 

The  lyric  sweetness  of  a  thousand  springs. 
The  stirrings  of  innumerable  wings, 

And  the  wild  surge  and  melody  of  the  sea. 


SISTERS 

Within  your  eyes  the  women  you  have  known 
Beckon  to  me  with  long  white  wavering  hands 
Across  the  gulfs  of  time.     My  spirit  stands 

Before  the  mirror  of  you  —  not  alone, 

But   blent   with    strange   reflections.     There   are   blown 
Here  shadows  on  the  winds  of  many  lands, 
Fair  shapes  whose  garments  brush  the  shifting  sands 

Of  desert  love,  where  all  dead  seeds  are  sown. 

Others  there  are  less  tenuous,  whose  lips 
Have  not  forgotten  the  old  ways  of  speech. 
"  Sister,"  they  call  me,  and  the  tones  beseech ; 

They  beat  upon  my  heart  like  little  whips. 
Trembling  with  timid  wistfulness,  I  reach 

Into  the  void  for  these  weird  fellowships. 


158 


I  LOVE  YOU 

Why  do  I  say,  "  I  love  you  "  ?     I  have  said 

Those  words  to  lesser  lovers  long  ago. 

Deluded  lovers  in  the  plains  below 
This  pure  inviolate  height  where  we  were  led 
For  purposes  prophetic.     I  have  read 

Those  words  on  youth's  blank  pages,  seen  them  glow 

Like  lanterns  in  life's  darkness;  yet  I  know 
Now  they  were  only  forms  untenanted. 

Love,  I  compare  the  ardours  of  the  past 
With  our  high  passion,  as  a  bard  compares 

The  music  of  his  first  songs  with  his  last; 

The  little   songs,  that  were  but   stammered   prayers, 

With  those  momentous  chants  whose  power  the  vast 
Organ  of  Art  in  thunderous  tone  declares. 


THE    CANDLE 

Your  face.  Beloved,  is  a  pure  white  flame 
Upon  the  world's  high  altar.     In  your  eyes 
The  ascending  spirit  of  the  sacrifice 

Yearns,  in  its  self-consuming,  toward  the  Name 

Blazoned  upon  the  temple.     You  reclaim 

The  hopes  of  long-lost  worshippers;  they  rise 
Emboldened  for  the  sacred  enterprise 

Whose  guerdon  is  beyond  the  end  of  fame. 


159 


You  are  the  blessed  candle  set  above 

The  Book  and  the  sacrament  —  the  light  of  truth, 
Which  calls  the  flaming  spirits  to  aspire, 
Shedding  its  radiance  on  the  blood  of  love. 
O  yearning  soul  of  consecrated  youth. 

My  faith  would  light  its  taper  at  your  fire! 


EXORCISM 

Lonely  I  am  to-day  and  full  of  doubt, 
Questioning  Fate,  and  dallying  with  Fear, 
That  vaguely  whispers  warning  in  my  ear 

Of  unknown  perils,  past  my  finding  out; 

Until  I  wonder  what  'tis  all  about  — 
My  pilgrimage  on  this  erratic  sphere, 
The  solitary  quest  from  year  to  year. 

My  soul  within  and  all  the  world  without. 

And  then  I  hear  your  footstep  on  the  stair. 
And  feel  the  clinging  question  of  your  kiss. 

O  wizard  Love!     My  spectres  in  despair. 
Seeing  your  face,  have  fled  to  the  abyss. 

How  strange  it  seems  that  I  should  ever  care 
For  any  cause  or  purpose  beyond  this! 


160 


TEARS 

*Tis  not  because  of  any  lack  in  thee. 

Beloved,  that  I  weep,  nor  any  pain 

The  wisest  lover  ever  could  explain 
In  terms  of  human  sorrow.     But  I  see 
In  Love's  immortal  garden  a  dark  tree 

Whose  name  I  know  not,  and  the  winds  complain 

Forever  through  its  leaves  in  lone  refrain; 
Even  the  birds  avoid  it  silently. 

But  I  believe  if  ever  I  should  dare 

To  lie  beneath  that  tree  a  whole  night  long. 
That  in  the  morning  I  should  know  the  song 

God  sang  when  Eve  was  tempted,  and  the  prayer 
That  made  the  Galilean  pity-strong 

In  the  night-watches  when  no  man  was  there. 


THE  IDEAL 

I  AM  as  those  of  whom  the  Hindoos  say, 

"  A  god  has  kissed  them  ";  for  Love  came  to  me 

Ideal  Love,  that  passionate  verity 
That  touches  mortals  in  some  swiftening  way 
And  startles  them  to  faith.     Aye,  day  by  day 

The  wonder  lives  with  me,  and  fearlessly 

I  gaze  into  its  eyes  —  O  ecstasy 
For  which  the  waiting  ages  thirst  and  pray! 


161 


Guerdon  of  all  the  soul's  accomplishment! 

Thou  art  a  sign  for  me  in  the  dark  place. 
Thou  art  the  wide  inviolable  tent 

That  hides  me  from  the  storm.     Thy  close  embrace 
Is  what  the  rapturous  earth  has  always  meant 

By  the  vague,  haunting  beauty  of  her  face. 


THE   DUAL    VISION 

Sometimes  when  you  are  one  with  me  as  brain 
Is  one  with  thought  while  prisoned  in  this  dust; 
When,  blended  utterly,  our  souls  adjust 

Their  dual  vision  —  as  the  eyes  though  twain 

Are  one  in  seeing;  I  can  scarce  restrain 
My  tears  of  pity  for  the  souls  that  must 
Go  seeking  Love  in  mazes  of  distrust. 

With  dreams  too  unsubstantial  to  attain. 

We  who  have  seized  the  great  Reality, 

We  who  have  ravished  the  affrighted  bride 

Of  human  Love  —  frail  Faith  —  and  made  her  see 
The  bridegroom's  naked  beauty,  have  thrown  wide 

A  door  into  the  Future,  where  the  free 
Spirits  of  Time  invisibly  abide. 


162 


GENESIS 

Love,  you  and  I  were  the  original  Cell, 
Locked  in  the  silence  of  eternity, 
And  in  the  winding  arms  that  were  to  be 

When  we  shoul^  be  dissevered.     Then  the  bell 

Of  Time  sounded  within  us,  the  rapt  spell 
Of  aeons  lifted,  and  the  ecstasy 
Of  sempiternal  being,  wild  and  free. 

Whirling  and  swirling,  broke  our  tenuous  shell. 

And  we  were  flung  even  to  the  outer  rim 
Of  the  expectant  Dark,  whose  calendars 

Called  for  our  coming;  and  we  blazed  on  him  — 
The  latest  of  a  thousand  Avatars. 
Your  scattered  seed  became  the  suns  and  stars. 

And  I  became  the  space  wherein  they  swim. 


THE    TRIANGLE 

Come  thou,  my  Lover  of  the  storied  past. 
And  thou,  my  Lover  of  the  strong  to-day. 
In  each  beloved  hand,  oh,  let  me  lay 

The  other's  hand  in  brotherhood  at  last! 

In  that  high  region  where  I  hold  you  fast  — 
Though  leagues  divide  us  —  is  a  luminous  way. 
Where  walk  those  all-wise  beings  who  survey 

Calmly  the  deeps  where  all  Love's  lies  are  cast. 


168 


Oh,  love  ye  one  another!  For  we  near  — 
A  little  every  day  —  that  master-height 
Where  none  may  venture  save  with  unveiled  sight; 

But  where  our  souls  must  face  the  thing  we  fear, 

In  one  another's  eyes  without  a  tear 

Beholding  Truth,  and  daring  the  great  light. 


LOVE-WRAITH 

Sometimes,  when  I  am  musing  all  alone. 
Into  my  being  flows  the  sense  of  thee 
In  overwhelming  fulness,  and  I  see 

Thy  secret  soul's  unguarded  portals  thrown 

Open  for  my  soul's  entrance  to  its  own. 
In  such  a  moment  thou  art  nearer  me 
Than  in  my  presence  —  unreservedly 

I  lift  the  veil  that  covers  the  unknown. 

And  so  I  wonder  if  our  parted  hours 

Have  not  a  purpose  neither  one  perceives; 
If  kisses  and  love  words  are  not  the  leaves 
Of  Love's  tree,  and  these  visions  the  rare  flowers 
Fragrant  and  pure  as  the  spiritual  powers 
Our  dual-self  in  solitude  achieves. 


164. 


THE   SILENCE   OF  LOVE 

Sweet  are  the  words  of  Love^  but  sweeter  far 
Is  Love's  initiate  silence.     When  we  lie 
Between  Life's  lips,  Beloved,  thou  and  I, 

Our  rapture-blended  beings  are  a  bar 

Even  to  lyric  speech.     A  word  might  mar 
The  visions  in  our  spiritual  sky. 
Where  every  little  bird  that  flutters  by 

Is  some  world-message  flying  to  a  star. 

In  Love's  great  silence  are  the  timid  things 
That  fear  the  trumpet  of  the  lord  of  sound. 

They  brush  against  our  souls  with  noiseless  wings, 
They  tremble  toward  us  from  the  teeming  ground. 

Some  day,  in  the  high  stillness  that  Love  brings. 
Life's  unimagined  secret  shall  be  found. 


SUMMER-ABSENCE 

I  WONDER  if  the  trees  that  beckon  thee 
To  their  deep  shadows  in  thy  lone  retreat 
Are  tender  as  my  arms;  and  if  the  sweet. 

Soft,  yielding  grass  clings  to  thee  lovingly 

As  I  in  drowsy  hours.     The  ecstasy 
That  quivers  ii;  the  ever-moving  wheat 
Whispers  of  love  to  thee„  and  the  strong  beat 

Of  Nature's  heart  woos  thee  continually. 


165 


hove,  we  are  one,  the  moving  wheat  and  I, 

And  the  great  heart  of  Nature.     When  the  trees 
Beckon  to  thee,  I  beckon;  when  the  blades 
Of  grass  caress  thy  fingers  as  they  lie 

Entangled  with  them,  I  am  even  in  these; 
And  I  am  hiding  in  the  twilight  shades. 


THE    CLOCK 

Before  the  hour  when  thou  wilt  come  to  me, 
Oh,  with  what  laggard  and  deliberate  pace 
The  minute-hand  moves  up  the  clock's  white  face! 

Even  desire  is  powerless  to  foresee 

Its   goal,  meridian-pointing.     Destiny 

May  but  have  wound  her  clock  within  an  ace 
Of  the  last  notch,  and  by  that  little  space 

Silence  may  enter  here  —  instead  of  thee. 

The  tick-tick  is  thy  footsteps  on  the  way, 

Heard  by  my  listening  heart;  and  the  hour-chime 
Will  be  our  old  Earth-Mother's  evening  song, 
Seeing  her  children  happy.  .  .  .  Do  not  stay 
Thy  numbered  steps,  O  Love-retarding  Time! 
Joy  is  so  brief,  and  eternity  so  long! 


166 


THE    SEA    OF    LOVE 

Your  love  is  like  the  ever-moving  sea. 

That  changes  not  and  yet  is  always  new. 

I  bathe  my  spirit  on  the  shores  of  you. 
And  in  your  deeps  divine  that  mystery 
Hid  from  the  world's  beginning.     Wild  and  free. 

The  tempests  of  your  heart  are  those  that  blew 

Secrets  to  old  Atlantis,  and  I  view 
On  your  horizon  lights  of  destiny. 

I  would  attune  my  being  to  the  rhyme 

Of  your  recurrent  tides.     I  would  embrace 

With  your  soul's  waves  the  shores  of  every  clime. 
And  with  your  surface  calm  reflect  the  face 

Of  that  illimitable  Lord  of  Time  — 

The  vast  star-shining  horologue  of  space. 


NATURE-LONGING 

To  be  alone  with  Nature,  you  and  I 
Together  in  some  undiscovered  place. 
Where  we  may  look  kind  Silence  in  the  face. 
And  learn  of  the  wise  winds  that  wander  by. 
The  secret  of  their  healing!     Oh,  to  lie 

For  hours  on  Time's  broad  bosom,  with  blue  space 
Laid  on  us  like  a  garment!     To  embrace 
The  motherly  trees,  that  never  will  deny 
Comfort  to  their  strayed  children!     Let  us  find 

167 


The  road  that  beckons  where  the  days  are  green. 
The  nights  a  hue  our  eyes  have  never  seen. 
And  leaving  the  world-dissonance  behind. 
Seek  the  earth-harmony.     Then  our  dust-blind 
Spirits  shall  learn  what  their  own  longings  mean. 


LOVE'S  LYCEUM 

Sometimes  for  recreation  Love  and  I 

Challenge  each  other  to  a  game  of  thought  — 
A  battle  of  words  and  meanings,  subtly  fought 

For  mutual  revelation.     And  we  vie 

For  vantage  points,  striving  to  fortify 

Those  visioned  heights  our  separate  roads  have  sought. 
From  Logic's  flint  our  steels  have  struck  and  caught 

Red,  splendid  sparks,  too  luminous  to  die. 

But  ere  our  minds*  lamps  burn  a  steady  flame. 
The  flickering  light  cast  on  each  lover's  face 
Shows  to  the  other  some  ecstatic  grace. 
Too  madly  sweet  for  reason.     Then  the  game 
Ceases,  forgotten,  with  its  brilliant  aim  — 
For  we  are  melted  in  the  flame's  embrace. 


168 


EPHEMERA 

What  are  the  toils  and  troublesf  of  my  days^ 
But  restless  gnats  that  buzz  around  the  ears 
Of  my  soul's  musing  Sphinx?     She  only  hears 

Time's  immemorial  music,  nor  obeys 

The  calls  that  echo  from  the  tinsel  maze 
Of  transitory  care.  Pallid  with  fears, 
The  mad  world  plunges  down  the  weary  years, 

Through  arid  and  unsatisfying  ways. 

Oh!  what  to  me  are  these  ephemeral  things? 
They  are  forgotten  when  at  night  I  rest. 
Love,  in  that  warm  eternity  —  your  breast. 
Close,  close  to  us  the  loving  Silence  clings. 
Brooding  with  wide,  immeasurable  wings. 
Our  dream  that  is  the  treasure  in  her  nest. 


THE   OAK 

You  bend  above  me  as  a  loving  tree 
Bends  to  the  tender  ivy  that  is  wound 
About  its  mighty  body;  you  surround 

My  being  as  the  tree's  immensity 

Surrounds  the  ivy.     Gazing  up,  I  see, 
On  your  aspiring  head,  dominion  crowned 
With  arch-druidic  sign,  and  in  the  ground 

Your  potent  roots  guard  mine  perpetually. 


169 


Softly,  O  softly,  do  my  tendrils  cling 
About  you  in  the  breezes !     I  delight 
Even  to  sway  aside  and  measure  your  height. 

But  when  the  storm,  with  awful  muttering, 

Threatens  the  stillness  —  then  I  grasp  you  tight, 

Like  any  other  frail  and  frightened  thing. 


UNDER    THE    SKY 

Here  with  Love's  languorous  and  abundant  ease 
Familiar,  this  entrancing  night  we  lie 
In  rapt  abandon  to  the  naked  sky  — 

Nothing  between  us  and  the  Pleiades ! 

Alcyone's  great  secret  might  appease 

The  yearning  of  our  souls,  might  verify 
Their  dreams  of  unity.     Do  not  deny 

Its  message  to  our  ears,  O  minstrel  breeze! 

Love,  yield  thy  spirit  to  the  influence 
Of  those  unbounded  spaces  overhead. 
It  was  for  this  we  made  our  bridal  bed 
In  Freedom's  roofless  mansion.     Rising  hence. 
Our  passion  sighs,  like  burning  frankincense, 
Perfume  all  stars  by  lovers  tenanted. 


17a 


THE    VIRGIN   SHRINE 

You  pray  me,  Dear,  to  find  some  virgin  shrine. 
Some  sacred  place  that  none  has  ever  known 
In  my  heart's  house,  where  you  and  I  alone 

'May  worship  one  another.     Bread  and  wine 

Wait  on  an  altar  where  no  soul  save  mine 
Has  bowed  before  the  Host,  with  lilies  grown 
In  God's  abundant  garden.     I  have  sown 

Before  the  door  the  seeds  of  the  secret  vine. 

There  time  is  not.     To-day  and  yesterday 
Blend  with  to-morrow  and  eternity. 

Even  as  our  souls  will  blend  if  there  we  pray. 
Dare  you  to  enter  now  and  stand  with  me 

In  the  white  stillness?     I  will  show  the  way, 
And  in  your  hand  place  the  prophetic  key. 


THE    CHILD 

The  tyrant  world  denies  me,  little  one. 
The  joy  of  building  you  a  mortal  frame; 
Yet  my  great  Love  and  I  have  called  the  flame 

Of  your  free  spirit  from  the  ardent  sun 

Of  God's  creative  dream.     You  were  begun 
At  our  souls'  mystic  marriage;  and  you  came 
Into  our  lives,  urging  your  tender  claim, 

Haunting  and  tenuous  as  deeds  undone. 


in 


And  though  we  never  feel  your  hands  in  ours. 
Nor  hear  the  wonderful  sound  of  your  small  feet 

Over  the  earth,  you  breathe  for  us  in  flowers; 
In  our  own  hearts  your  tiny  pulses  beat; 

And  through  the  long  inviolable  hours 

Of  dream  we  hold  communion  high  and  sweet. 


WORDS 

Why  do  our  words  divide  us  like  a  wall. 
And  only  in  the  stillness,  through  the  eyes 
Or  the  rapt  lips,  our  spirits  in  surprise 

Rush  flaming  on  each  other?     When  you  call 

My  wraith  to  you  afar,  it  brings  you  all 

My  dumb  lips  dare  not  carry.     We  disguise 

The  soul  with  veils  of  speech  —  poor  soul,  that  tries 

To  pour  the  ocean  through  a  pipe,  so  small! 

Oh,  for  the  courage  to  endure  the  flame 

Of  God's  tremendous  silence,  heart  to  heart. 

On  the  sheer  height  where  weak  words  are  forgot; 
Where  faith  is  all  the  foothold,  and  the  aim 
Only  to  find  the  soul  its  counterpart. 

In  the  white  sphere  where  space  and  time  are  not! 


172 


THE    VEIL 

Beloved,  let  my  dark  hair  cover  thee. 

Veiling  thy  face  from  my  long  gazing  eyes; 
For  I  am  weary  as  the  daylight  dies 

Into  the  shadow  —  the  uncertainty 

That  yearns  to  hide  the  world.     Be  now  to  me 
The  undiscovered  guerdon,  the  far  prize 
That  waits  the  soul's  endeavour  —  till  I  rise 

Eager  again  to  solve  the  mystery. 

As  I  have  hidden  thee  in  my  long  hair, 

So  would  my  passion  cover  thee  with  dream 

And  soul-alluring  glamour.     Dost  thou  dare 
Always  to  face  my  spirit  in  supreme 

And  blinding  revelation?     Oh,  beware! 

Love's  veils  are  more  essential  than  they  seem. 


TRUTH 

When  Pilate  questioned  Him  of  Galilee 

With,  **  What  is  truth  ?  "  the  Master,  we  are  told. 
Said  not  a  word.     That  story  in  fine  gold 

Was  graven  on  Time's  rocks  for  you  and  me. 

Have  we  not  proven  truth  and  falsity 
Two  faces  of  one  coin,  and  candour  sold 
To  buy  this  purer  pearl  .^     Deep  fold  on  fold 

Grows  the  immortal  rose  of  verity. 


173 


And  yet  I  tremble  sometimes  in  the  night 
When  all  the  world  is  still,  and  in  your  arms 
I  listen  for  the  wonder  of  your  breath. 
Though  round  your  head  shines  truth's  unwavering  light, 
My  soul  this  hour  is  filled  with  vague  alarms, 

Lest  we  have  dared  that  falsehood  which  is  death. 


THE  CRUEL  WORD 

When  I  have  said  some  cruel  word  to  you. 
All  the  night  long  I  feel  it  burn  and  smart 
Deep  in  the  hidden  softness  of  my  heart; 

And  if  perchance  I  know  the  word  was  true, 

Then  do  my  vindicating  tears  pursue 
Reason,  till  it  absolves  you.     As  in  art. 
So  even  in  love  is  light  the  counterpart 

Always  of  shadow.     Can  we  blend  the  two? 

That  were  a  twilight  grey  and  passionless. 
Wherein  the  flowers  of  life  would  open  pale. 
And  Love  grow  weary  of  his  own  delight. 
Better  the  fiery  noon,  the  fierce  caress. 

The  radiant  rose  —  and  then,  as  countervail. 
Tears  and  the  lonely  darkness  of  the  night. 


174 


JOY  OF  LOVE 

Beloved,  when  I  hear  the  low  complaining 

Of  little  lovers  in  whose  jealous  eyes 

The  weak  tears  wait,  whose  souls  would  agonise 
Between  the  breasts  of  Aphrodite,  chaining 
Her  freedom  with  their  servitude,  and  staining 

The  splendour  of  her  gift  with  their  mean  sighs; 

When  these  I  hear,  and  pity,  and  despise. 
How  great  you  loom  —  the  joy  of  Love  maintaining! 

Yours  is  that  master  sight  that  sees  the  sun 
Blaze  in  the  nadir  on  the  darkest  night. 

For  you  the  roses  bloom,  the  rivers  run 
In  icy  winter,  and  the  ultimate  right 

Waits  in  all  wrong.     O  god-instructed  one. 
Wise  with  the  wisdom  of  the  world's  delight! 


ISOLATION 

Sometimes  when  I  am  very  close  to  you 
In  form  and  feeling,  suddenly  a  thought 
Of  our  eternal  separateness  makes  naught 

Of  all  our  vows,  and  I  am  smitten  through 

With  sense  of  isolation.     Is  it  true. 

Beloved,  that  the  visions  we  have  caught 
Of  perfect  union  may  be  phantoms  wrought 

Of  our  own  brains,  and  dyed  in  their  own  hue? 


175 


When  in  my  very  arms  you  lie  asleep, 

Your  dreams  may  be  a  thousand  miles  away. 

I  hear  your  words,  but  unknown  meanings  keep 
Vigil  behind  your  lips^  and  when  we  say, 

"  Forever,  Love !  "  our  listening  angels  weep. 
Gazing  at  one  another  in  dismay. 


'ABSORPTION 

Beloved,  in  the  still  deeps  of  thine  eyes 
Absorb  my  soul,  that  I  may  feel  no  more 
This  pain  of  separation!     I  implore 

Thy  Self  to  take  me  in,  and  solemnise 

My  union  with  thee  in  some  mystic  wise. 
I  would  no  more  be  I;  but  would  explore. 
As  thee,  thy  soul's  dim  temple,  and  adore 

Therein,  as  thee,  with  secret  sacrifice. 

Oh,  let  me  die  to  Self  and  find  rebirth 
In  some  fair  body  as  one  breath  with  thee ! 
There  are  no  purposes  in  life  for  me 
But  as  thy  complement;  nor  any  worth 
In  all  the  fame  and  splendour  of  the  earth  — 
Unless  one  perfect  spirit  we  may  be. 


176 


OPULENCE 

You  are  the  flowing  of  Love's  opulence 
Over  the  meagre  measure  of  my  days, 
Whose  scattered  drops  along  the  world's  dry  ways 

Shall  be  as  wells  of  beauty.     In  their  tents, 

The  watchful  nomads  on  life's  lone  immense 

Grey  desert  call  them  songs.     Who  thirsts  betrays 
His  secret  need  of  love,  and  tribute  pays 

To  you.  Beloved,  when  his  soul  assents. 

For  each  drop  of  this  water  is  a  song 
That  but  for  you  had  never  taken  form 
Out  of  the  vapour  of  silence.     Prophecy 
Sometimes  is  mirrored  there,  and  symbols  long 
Invisible;   while   mystic  visions  swarm 
Across  these  fragile  spheres  of  poetry. 


AS  A  THOUSAND  YEARS 

'Tis  said  that  in  the  Lord's  abiding  place 

A  single  day  is  as  a  thousand  years. 

So  was  that  day  we  spent  among  the  spheres 
That  roam  Love's  interspiritual  space. 
In  vision  we  beheld  the  eternal  Face; 

While  Time,  whose  sands  are  crystallised  love-tears, 

Sustained  them,  till  the  hours  were  in  arrears. 
To  guard  from  envious  worlds  our  soul's  embrace. 


177 


And  now  that  our  ecstatic  interlude 

In  Life's  discordant  song  is  passed  away; 

Now  Time's  depleted  hour-glass  is  renewed, 
To  measure  our  reunion's  long  delay, 

These  thousand  years  of  pain  and  solitude 
Shall  also  to  that  Lord  be  as  one  day! 


PARTED 

Love,  I  have  wept  thine  absence  till  my  eyes 

Are  heavy  with  the  burden  of  their  tears. 

Insistently  against  my  inner  ears 
The  hot,  desirous  blood  knocks,  and  defies 
This  cloistral  quietude  that  crucifies 

The  heart  of  Love. —  O  Lord  of  days  and  years! 

Send  back  my  lover,  though  it  moves  the  spheres 
And  hurls  the  seasons  forward  in  the  skies! 

Time  is  my  enemy.     The  laggard  days 

Mock  me  with  pallid  laughter,  as  they  ride 
Slowly  around  the  earth.     In  shame  they  hide 
Their  eyes  from  me,  veiling  the  tell-tale  rays 
They  stole  from  Love's  eyes,  for  their  light  betrays 
They  passed  him  on  the  round  world's  other  side. 


178 


AUTUMN 

Chill  is  the  night  and  cheerless.     All  alone 
I  linger  here  under  the  cedar  tree, 
Whose  deep  autumnal  murmur  dolourously 

Blends  with  the  sea's   monotonous   undertone. 

Beloved^  all  the  summer  birds  are  flown 

And  all  the  flowers.     The  shifting  mockery 
Of  dead  leaves  covers  everything,  and  thee  — 

Thee  too  the  autumn  covers  with  her  own. 

Wilt  thou  return,  Beloved,  with  the  spring. 

When  leaves  and  birds  and  flowers  come  back  again? 

Wilt  thou  return  when  mating  robins  sing 
In  cedar  shades  their  happy  love-refrain? 

Or  shall  I  watch  each  tender  natural  thing 
Return  to  joy  —  and  watch  for  thee  in  vain? 


FAITH 

O  FRIENDLY  Faith!     Thy  cool  hands  are  as  white 
As  moonbeams  on  the  waves  they  lull  to  sleep. 
Press  down  my  eyelids,  that  I  may  not  weep, 

And  hold  me  close  through  all  this  cruel  night. 

Stay  thou  with  me  until,  over  the  height. 
The  sun  of  Love  arises  from  the  deep  — 
The  unknown  ocean  of  absence.     I  would  keep 

Vigil  with  thee,  O  Faith!  till  the  daylight. 


179 


My  Love  is  sealed  with  truth,  and  he  is  mine  — 
Mine  as  my  breath,  blended  and  one  with  me 
As  my  own  memories,  as  inseparably 

Fused  with  my  substance  as  the  colour  of  wine 
Is  blended  with  its  perfume.     Tenderly, 

O  angel  Faith!  guard  Love's  unlighted  shrine. 


THE   LETTER 

Silence  and  separation  and  the  ache  — 

The  restless  passionate  desire  to  see 

One  being  alone  of  all  humanity! 
Why  do  we  banish  angels  for  the  sake 
Of  housing  these  dull  mortals,  who  would  make 

Our  souls  their  playtoys!     Love,  come  back  to  me! 

This  world  is  a  dream  of  unreality. 
And  only  in  your  presence  am  I  awake. 

And  then  they  bring  your  letter.  .  .  .  And  my  world 
Suddenly  thrills,  and  is  no  more  a  dream. 
But  quiveringly  real.     Christ  never  wrought 
Miracle  greater  than  this  missive,  whirled 

Through  space  from  the  Hesperides  —  a  gleam 
Of  the  ineffable  Light,  all  wonder-fraught. 


180 


LOVE'S  WASTED  DAYS 

I  WEARY  of  the  burden  of  these  days, 

These  heavy  days  when  we  are  far  apart. 
No  empty  winning  in  the  worldly  mart 

Can  ever  profit  us;  no  idle  praise 

Can  compensate  us  for  our  love's  delays. 

There  come  from  Life's  dark  forest  where  thou  art. 
Only  the  echoes  of  my  crying  heart  — 

Thy  lone  cries  borne  along  the  barren  ways. 

Outside  the  brooding  fold  of  thine  embrace, 

The  sunbeams  burn  me  and  the  shades  affright. 

I  am  a  wind-blown  meteor  in  space, 

Robbed  of  the  guidance  of  thy  love's  great  light. 

My  life,  without  the  beacon  of  thy  face, 
Is  wasted  on  the  ways  of  outer  night. 


SEPARATE 

I  AM  SO  lonely  and  so  far  from  thee ! 
I  clasp  and  importune  the  listening  air, 
Whose  tresses  touch  thy  distance;  but  my  prayer 

Brings  only  its  own  echo  back  to  me. 

My  soul  is  sick  with  the  world's  tyranny! 

What  are  the  wills  of  men,  that  they  should  dare 
Intrude  themselves  between  our  breasts,  and  tear 

Our  spirits  from  their  shrines  irreverently? 


181 


Defy  them,  and  return  to  me  this  day ! 

For  in  a  little  while  we  shall  be  dead; 
And  all  the  treasures  we  can  take  away 

Are  memories  of  the  love-words  we  have  said. 
Shadows  of  hours  together,  and  the  grey 

Caressing  ghosts  of  lips  that  once  were  red. 


ABSENCE 

Thou  art  not  here,  Beloved,  and  the  night 

Is  void  and  meaningless  for  want  of  thee. 

There  is  no  fragrance  in  the  flowers  for  me. 
Nor  any  glamour  in  the  wan  moonlight. 
I  hear  no  woodland  warbler's  lyric  flight  — 

Only  the  cricket,  crying  mournfully. 

And  low  sobs  of  the  melancholy  sea  — 
Lonely  as  I,  for  all  her  awful  might. 

O  thou  who  hast  all  beauty  where  thou  art! 
Return  and  bring  it  with  thee,  I  implore, 
Bring  back  the  world's  lost  meaning.     From  before 

Thy  face  all  desolation  will  depart. 

Whenever  I  hear  thy  footsteps'  at  the  door, 

The  bird  of  wonder  warbles  in  my  heart. 


182 


WAITING 

O  AGONY  of  waiting!     I  believe 

Life  has  no  burden  of  penitence  or  loss 
So  hard  to  carry  as  thy  restless  cross; 

Nor  any  torment  mortal  may  conceive 

So  powerless  to  attain  its  own  reprieve. 

The  treasures  of  the  scheming  world  seem  dross 
And   emptiness!     I   would  not  go   across 

My  garden  all  earth's  wonders  to  achieve! 

Because,  if  I  should  venture  from  the  door. 
Should  wander  down  some  path  a  little  way, 
He  would  be  sure  to  come  this  very  day. 

Though  I  had  waited  for  him  weeks  before. 
For  Fate  is  watching,  eager  to  betray. 

And  I  should  mourn  this  hour  forevermore. 


AFTER   LONG   ABSENCE 

This  is  the  day  —  the  hour  —  if  all  be  well, 
When  my  Beloved  will  return  to  me 
Out  of  the  world's  malign  immensity. 

Where  lurks  Disaster,  the  cold  infidel 

That  envies  lovers.     Could  I  but  dispel 
My  fears  of  some  immutable  decree 
Of  the  dark  Fates,  forbidding  joy  to  be. 

That  will  not  let  Love  pass  their  sentinel! 


183 


When  he  shall  come,  his  presence  will  restore 
Refreshment  to  the  water,  the  lost  light 
To  the  wan  moon,  and  to  the  restless  night 

Repose  and  plenitude  forevermore. 

Even  the  homing  birds  will  pause  in  flight 

When  I  shall  hear  his  footsteps  at  my  door. 


THE  ABYSM 

Dazed  with  a  rapture  long  deferred,  I  feel 
Afraid  to  face  the  sheer  immensity  — 
The  wild  abysm  of  my  desire  for  thee. 

My  woman-heart  trembles,  and  would  conceal 

The  measure  of  its  wealth;  but  I  reveal 

Through  voice  and  hands  and  eyes  the  ecstasy 
That  beats  at  the  defenseless  doors  of  me. 

Moved  by  thy  love's  unutterable  appeal. 

O  bid  me  go  into  the  wilderness. 

Or  to  the  desert  regions  of  the  earth. 

To  be  with  thee!     There  would  be  plenitude 
Of  beauty  for  me  there,  if  thy  caress 
Waited  in  every  shadow,  and  no  dearth 
Beside  thee  in  the  arid  solitude. 


184 


INSATIATE 

My  tremulous,  intense  desire  of  thee 

Transcends  this  earthly  garment  that  is  thine. 

When  thy  love-graven  dust  is  fused  with  mine 
As  fragrance  with  a  flower^  there  still  for  me 
Are  luring^  unknown  deeps  of  mystery 

To  be  descended  never;  and  I  pine 

In  mystic  passion,  for  thy  souFs  dim  shrine 
Is  domed  by  vistas  of  Infinity. 

Oh,  to  behold  thy  spiritual  face  — 

Thy  very  Self,  unveiled  of  earth's  disguise! 

When  I  have  wrested  from  involved  space 
The  only  unity  that  satisfies, 

And  hold  thy  naked  soul  in  my  embrace, 
I  shall  know  God,  and  gaze  into  His  eyes. 


BEYONDNESS 

Beloved,  Time  and  veiled  Eternity 

Reach  to  caress  me  with  your  vibrant  hands. 
The  gods  of  old  salute  me,  and  the  sands 

Of  long  absorbed  seas  return  to  be 

The  witness  of  our  footsteps.     When  I  see 
Within  your  eyes  the  lure  of  unknovm  lands 
And  unknown  lives,  an  ecstasy  expands 

My  being  beyond  Time's  frail  boundary. 


185 


The  measure  of  the  beneath  and  the  above 
Is  in  your  hand;  your  feet  are  on  the  ages. 

Over  your  head^  visible  to  the  sages. 

Hovers  the  luminous  immortal  dove; 

And  on  your  memory's  unapparent  pages 

Are  written  all  the  hidden  ways  of  Love. 


MICROPROSOPOS 

Behind  the  orient  darkness  of  thine  eyes. 

The  eyes  of  God  interrogate  my  soul 

With  whelming  love.     The  luminous  waves  that  roll 
Over  thy  body  are  His  dream.     It  lies 
On  thee  as  the  moon-glamour  on  the  skies; 

And  all  around  —  the  yearning  aureole 

Of  His  effulgent  being  —  broods  the  whole 
Rapt  universe,  that  our  love  magnifies. 

O  thou,  through  whom  for  me  Infinity 
Is  manifest!     Bitter  and  salt,  thy  tears 
Are  the  heart-water  of  the  passionate  spheres, 

With  all  their  pain.     I  drink  them  thirstily! 

While  in  thy  smile  is  realised  for  me 
The  flaming  joys  of  archangelic  years. 


186 


THE    TOWER 

Your  love  is  like  a  mighty  tower  for  me, 
When  I  am  weary  and  the  world  is  dark. 
From  your  high  battlements  my  thoughts  embark 

Upon  the  tenuous  wings  of  poetry, 

Voyaging  to  the  stars.     Sovereign  and  free, 
The  inter-stellar  dreams'  great  hierarch 
Marshals  his  legions  round  us,  as  a  mark 

In  the  encircling  vast  uncertainty. 

Steadfast  we  stand  together,  you  and  I, 
Untroubled  by  false  visions,  unafraid. 
Though  often  menaced  by  the  jagged  blade 

Of  neighbour-lightning.     As  the  clouds  go  by. 
We  watch  the  wraiths  of  old  religions  fade 

Into  that  faith  which  love  shall  verify. 


'ACME 

Throned  in  the  purple  shadows  of  thy  hair. 
Mystery  is  exalted.     In  thine  eyes 
Burns  the  supreme  desire  that  never  dies, 

The  demiurgic  fire  whose  power  I  dare 

To  meet  and  mix  me  with.  I  do  not  care 
Whether  the  end  be  gain  or  sacrifice, — 
Only  to  touch!  the  poetry  that  lies 

Behind  the  beauty  that  allures  me  there! 


187 


As  wine  in  water^  let  me  lose  in  thee 

The  boundaries  of  myself.     Give  me  to  drink 
The  cup  between  thy  lips  —  I  will  not  shrink 

Though  it  be  bitter-sweet.     Oh,  I  would  be 
Intoxicate  with  love,  until  I  sink 

Into  the  deeps  —  or  rise  to  ecstasy ! 


THE    SACRAMENT    OF   LOVE 

The  ground  whereon  we  tread  is  holy  ground. 
Made  sacred  by  the  myriad  slow  feet 
Of  Life's  successive  ministers.     We  meet 

Beside  the  blessed  table  where  man  found 

The  symbols  of  his  Maker.     In  the  round 
Of  unremembered  suns  this  bread  we  eat 
Was  leavened,  and  this  wine  so  mortal-sweet 

Was  crushed  from  grapes  grown  beyond  Time's  grey 
bound. 

This  cup  whereof  we  drink  is  verily 

The  blood  of  the  atonement,  and  this  bread 
The  very  body  of  Love.     These  drops  were  bled 

Upon  the  cross  of  Life  in  ecstasy. 

O  potent  sacrament!     You  seal  in  me 

The  link  between  the  unborn  and  the  dead. 


188 


WHEN  I   SHALL   LIE    IN   DEATH 

When  I  shall  lie.  Beloved,  some  dark  day 

In  the  unbending  dignity  of  death; 

When  in  my  ear  Love's  potent  shibboleth 
From  your  own  lips  no  message  shall  convey. 
Nor  bring  the  well-known  answer  ...  do  not  say 

That  God  with  me  the  Void  replenisheth ! 

Though  with  your  breath  I  do  not  mix  my  breath. 
Be  not  too  sure  that  I  have  gone  away^ 

Your  presence  will  be  welcome  as  of  old 
Beside  the  stately  bed  where  I  am  laid; 

And  though  for  the  first  time  you  find  me  cold, 
Know  *tis  from  terror  of  the  waiting  spade. 

Comfort  and  warm  me  in  your  living  hold. 
And  kiss  my  face  —  and  do  not  be  afraid. 


THE    UNSPOKEN 

In  the  rapt  silences  between  us  two 

Are  Love's  last  heights   ascended.     Keenly  dear 
Are  your  love-vibrant  tones,  and  when  I  hear 

Your  whisper  in  the  dark  there  trembles  through 

My  soul  the  star-choir's  music.     Yet  I  do 
Worship  the  silence,  though  sometimes  I  fear 
The  too-revealing  Presence  it  brings  near  — 

As  if  the  hand  of  God  touched  me  and  you. 


189 


It  seems  that  our  two  souls  in  some  still  place 
Pause  for  a  pulseless  moment^  as  if  we 
Were  masters  of  desire  and  destiny  — 

Holding  the  planets  poised  in  dizzy  space. 

Look,  Love !     There  in  the  dark  the  shining  Face ! 
The  God  of  Silence  calls  us  —  it  is  He. 


HIDDEN  BEAUTY 

In  thy  form's  magic  mirror  of  desire 

Beckons  that  Beauty  hid  from  mortal  sight. 
The  rhythm  that  marked  the  elemental  rite 

Of  Being  marks  thy  heartbeat,  and  the  lyre 

Of  the  great  leader  of  the  stellar  choir 

Is  strung  with  hair  like  thine.     When  in  the  night 
Between  thy  lids  I  see  love's  glowing  light. 

It  is  for  me  great  Uriel's  vigil-fire. 

What  art  thou,  to  unveil  my  vision  so ! 

The  pangs  of  the  great  Mother  gave  thee  birth. 

To  be  a  symbol  on  the  alien  earth 
Of  those  mysterious  powers  that  spirits  know. 

I  was  a  pilgrim  in  a  land  of  dearth; 
Thy  coming  made  the  corn  and  lilies  grow. 


190 


THE  PERVADER 

Beloved  Light  of  the  celestial  deep! 

Art  Thou  not  trying  to  commune  with  me 
Through  this  dear  mortal  who  so  rapturously 

Clings  to  my  veil  of  dust?     Always  I  keep 

My  tryst  with  Thee:  when  up  the  flaming  steep 
Of  passion's  dizzy  pinnacle  I  rise  free 
One  moment  from  the  earth's  blind  sovereignty; 

Or  in  the  lofty  solitude  of  sleep. 

Wherever  I  look  —  Thou  art.     Even  my  bowl 
Of  wine  reflects  Thy  symbol  from  the  skies; 
And,  imaged  on  the  mirror  of  Love's  eyes. 
Thy  meditative  eyes  regard  my  soul, 
Glowing  with  love  unspeakable  —  Thou  goal 
Of  this  my  pilgrimage  in  human  guise! 


RECOMPENSE 

When  I  consider  all  thou  givest  me 

In  these  miraculous  hours  I  value 

The  vision  and  the  wonder  that  I  know 
To  be  the  veils  of  that  Reality 
Behind  the  dreams  of  earth;  and  when  I  see 

How  with  thy  tending  all  my  soul-flowers  grow, 

In  very  gratitude  I  would  bestow 
Some  rare  incomparable  gift  on  thee. 


191 


But  when  I  gaze  deep  in  thy  raptured  eyes. 
And  see  my  own  eyes  in  companioning 

Reflection  fused  with  thine,  I  realise 
That  in  this  unity  of  lives  I  bring 
Some  boon  beyond  my  own  imagining. 

That  is  thy  lonely  spirit's  long-sought  prize. 


THE  MAN 

Immeasurable  thy  being  is  to  me. 

Lord  of  my  fulfilled  life!     The  beauty  line 
Of  the  world's  orbital  ellipse  is  mine 

In  one  encompassing  eye-sweep  of  thee. 

Thy  substance  holds  that  secret  chemistry 

Whereby  the  earth-dust  flames,  and  is  divine; 
And  woven  with  thy  body  is  the  sign 

Of  primal,  demiurgic  mystery. 

Without  thee  is  my  destiny  denied; 

Though  I  stand  symbol  of  the  sea  of  space. 
The  boundless  gestatorium,  the  bride 

Of  the  Supreme.     Only  in  thine  embrace 
My  small  ephemeral  life  is  amplified. 

Is  blent  with  the  imperishable  race. 


192 


ILLUMINATION 

When  my  receptive  lips  are  fused  with  thine 

In  that  pure  flame  whose  fuel  is  ecstasy. 

All  of  the  lost,  forgotten  poetry 
Of  unrecorded  ages  touches  mine 
With  gift  of  inspiration.     Powers  divine. 

Answering  thine  ardent  summons,  move   in  me. 

Measureless  days,  and  wider  days  to  be. 
Challenge  my  hour  for  the  lyric  countersign. 

Unborn  religions  burn  me  in  thine  eyes; 
The  devotees  of  undelivered  years 
Mirror  their  visions  there,  in  thy  love  tears. 

And  lure  my  lips  to  drink  them.     I  am  wise 
With  the  deep  lore  of  disembodied  seers. 

When  God  breathes  over  me  thy  passion  sighs. 


THE  SONG  AND  THE  SINGER 

Life  has  no  honour  to  surpass  the  pride 
Of  the  undaunted  singer.     When  I  feel 
Love's  rhythmic  waves,  that  make  my  being  reel. 

Go  royally  and  steadily  as  a  bride 

In  measured  march  of  song;  when  I  confide 
To  all  the  world  my  secret  soul's  appeal  — 
Wound  round  with  lyric  veils  that  half  reveal  — 

Then  is  my  hour  of  living  magnified. 


198 


Then  do  I  hear  strange  voices  answer  me 
Across  the  waiting  silence.     And  I  know, 
Beloved,  that  our  yearning  dreams  shall  flow 
Into  their  dreams,  as  rivers  find  the  sea. 
And  unborn  lovers  love  more  tenderly 
Because  we  loved  each  other  long  ago. 


THE   EAGLES 

O  EAGLE  mate  of  mine,  the  souls  are  few 

That  scale  the  height  where  we  have  made  our  nest 
Above  the  perilous  chasm!     Breast  to  breast 

We  battle  with,  the  darkness,  and  the  clue 

To  our  far  flight  is  written  in  the  true 

Eyes  of  the  constellations.     All  unguessed 
In  the  dull  valley  is  the  dizzy  quest 

That  calls  us  to  patrol  the  pathless  blue. 

The  air  is  thin  where  we  entice  our  brood 

Of  young  to  measure  their  frail  wings  with  Fate; 

But  they  are  nourished  on  ethereal  food. 
Found  only  on  these  crags  inviolate. 

Facing  the  wind,  the  void,  the  solitude. 
We  are  God's  pioneers,  O  eagle  mate! 


194 


THE    TABERNACLE 

When  from  the  cloud  along  the  mountain  height 

The  Lord  decreed  that  thou,  Love,  shouldst  be  made. 

Was  not  the  mighty  architect  afraid, 
And  blinded  by  the  vision  and  the  light? 
O  covenantal  ark  of  sacred  rite, 

Law-holding  heart,  with  pure  gold  overlaid! 

Between  thy  winged  cherubim,  love-rayed. 
The  Presence  will  commune  with  me  this  night. 

For  I  have  laved  me  at  the  outer  gate; 

Around  my  soul's  blue  robe  the  golden  bells 
And  pomegranates  are  broidered,  and  I  wait 

The  word  of  Him  that  in  this  temple  dwells. 

The  Power  descends,  it  permeates,  compels; 
And  my  soul  testifies,  "  The  Lord  is  great." 


LOVE'S   HUMBLENESS 

I  KNOW  the  pride  of  Love,  the  happiness 

Of  gratified  possession,  wearing  high 

Its  diadem  no  envy  can  deny: 
I  know  the  power  of  the  withheld  caress 
That  leaves  Love  unsubdued,  but  weaponless; 

I  know  Love's  unveiled  look  that  blinds  the  eye; 

I  know  the  splendid  joys  that  magnify 
Poets  who  Love's  beatitudes  express. 


195 


But  till  I  learned  Love's  humbleness,  I  knew 
Only  Love's  alphabet.     'Twas  when  I  lay 
A  beggar  at  Love's  knees  the  livelong  day. 

That  I  discerned  this  final  master-clue: 

'Tis  better  for  a  lover  to  bedew 

Love's  feet  with  tears,  than  walk  earth's  royal  way. 


LOVE'S    BAPTISM 

From  the  pure  baptism  of  my  love  you  rise 
As  a  white  saint  dips  in  the  sacred  lake 
And  comes  out  shining.     All  your  soul  awake 

Lives  in  your  face,  and  would  immortalise 

One  who  revealed  it  in  art's  master  guise 

For  all  the  world.     Had  life  the  power  to  make 
Me  such  a  painter!     But  my  hand  would  shake. 

For  this  is  what  you  tell  me  with  your  eyes: — 

I  am  your  sea  of  healing,  and  the  door 
Whereby  you  enter  God's  abiding  place; 

Your  trembling  hopes  are  hidden  in  my  hair; 
I  am  your  volume  of  unwritten  lore; 

My  breasts  for  you  are  cups  of  cosmic  grace. 
My  dreams  the  pillars  of  your  house  of  prayer. 


196 


THE    ICY   PATH 

Thy  soul  and  mine  are  walking  warily 
Along  a  line  of  ice,  a  narrow  way 
Between  two  seas  of  flame.     The  cruel  day 

We  banish  by  closed  eyelids,  for  to  see 

The  cold  white  glitter  were  a  mockery. 

Should  we  unveil  our  eyes  we  could  not  stay 
Upon  the  path;  our  steps  would  disobey; 

Our  souls  would  slip  into  the  raging  sea. 

Love,  how  the  warm  waves  woo  our  icy  feet! 
Our  foreheads  lifted  for  the  polar  wind 

Are  fanned  by  tropic  airs  ...  we  lose  our  aim 
Dizzy  and  drunken  in  the  swimming  heat. 

Swaying  toward  some  lost  wonder  we  must  find. 
We  fall  into  the  pulsing  sea  of  flame. 


A    QUESTION 

Is  it  thy  body  that  I  love  —  thy  soul  — 
Or  some  mysterious  dweller  beyond  both? 
Alas,  I  do  not  know!     But  I  am  loath 

To  reckon  as  mere  dust  this  aureole 

My  dreams  have  drawn  about  thee.     Life's  control 
Drew  from  the  earth  the  substance  for  Love's  growth. 
As  for  the  lilies' ;  and  Desire  made  oath 

That  Beauty's  form  should  greet  us  at  the  goal. 


197 


But  whether  Love  be  blossom  of  the  earth 
Or  of  the  spirit  —  let  all  question  cease. 

I  only  know  my  arid  being's  dearth 

Grew  roses  in  thy  presence;  that  increase 

Of  vivid  life  came  with  our  passion's  birth, 
And  to  my  lips  the  rose-leaf  lips  of  Peace. 


THE   RHYTHMIC   HEART 

With  wonder-waiting  breath  and  dream-closed  eyes, 

I  listen  to  the  far  mysterious  sound 

Of  your  heart's  tides,  as  some  child  who  has  found 
A  convoluted  shell,  and  verifies 
The  story  that  the  boundless  ocean  sighs 

Within  it  for  his  ears;  though  all  around 

Are  only  waving  trees  and  solid  ground  — 
A  prisoned  memory  there  that  never  dies. 

Your  beating  heart.  Beloved,  holds  for  me 

Such  memories  of  the  Ocean  whence  you  came. 
Washed  up  on  Time's  cold  margin  like  a  shell 
Upon  the  earth-beach.     All  Eternity  — 

Yours  and  the  world's  and  God's  their  Law  proclaim 
In  the  rhythmic  ringing  of  this  cosmic  bell. 


X98 


THE    PRESENCE 

Your  presence  is  enough  for  happiness, 
Without  a  word  or  pressure  of  the  hand. 
Near  you  the  blossoms  of  my  soul  expand 

Like  lily  buds  at  sunrise,  that  express 

Their  joy  in  fragrant  silence.     I  possess 

Your  thought  without  a  medium,  and!  demand 
Nothing  of  all  Love's  ministers  that  stand 

Waiting  beyond  this  bodiless  caress. 

Nay,  do  not  touch  me  for  a  little  while, 
And  speak  no  word,  even  of  poetry. 

Only  the  stillness  of  your  lyric  smile 

Shall  bear  the  message  of  your  soul  to  me. 

As  through  your  misty  eyes,  blue  mile  on  mile, 
I  sail  on  feeling's  immaterial  sea. 


THE    SPHERE    OF  LOVE 

When  in  the  circle  of  my  arms*  embrace 
Close  I  enfold  you,  I  encompass.  Dear, 
The  opulent  earth,  and  whisper  in  its  ear. 

I  look  the  soul  of  the  planet  in  the  face. 

And  feel  against  my  cheek  the  winds  of  space 
With  every  breath  of  yours.     How  can  I  fear 
The  need  of  aught.''     In  Love's  ideal  sphere 

Are  hidden  all  life's  lines  of  power  and  grace. 


199 


Beyond  the  self's  dividual  boundary 

We  touch  that  interspiritual  goal 
iWhere  two  in  one  dissolve  in  ecstasy, 

Leaving  a  tracing  on  the  terrene  scroll 
Of  the  fourth  dimension  of  Love's  mystic  sea  — 

The  metaphor,  the  poetry  of  the  soul. 


THE   TOUCH   OF  BEAUTY 

What  is  that  magical  strange  quality, 

That  gives  to  all  the  words  and  ways  of  you 
Something  supernal?     Others  are  as  true 

Expressions  of  the  inner  thought,  maybe; 

But  they  are  prose,  and  you  are  poetry. 

You  merely  look  at  me  —  and  something  new 
Calls  me  to  give  it  form;  some  faint,  far  clue 

Touches  me  from  a  world  I  cannot  see. 

And  sometimes  when  the  beauty  is  not  so  high 
It  overpowers  me,  I  am  moved  to  sing. 

But,  O  Beloved,  how  mere  words  belie 

The  wonder  of  that  half-embodied  thing! 

It  merely  brushes  me  in  going  by. 

But  leaves  me  all  alive  and  quivering. 


200 


THE    UNASSUAGABLE 

The  ache  of  unassuagable  desire! 

When  my  enraptured  form  is  full  of  thee  — 
Drenched  with  thy  love  and  broken  utterly - 

The  spirit  all  thy  power  can  never  tire 

Burns  steadily,  an  unconsuming  fire. 
Oh,  the  long  calling  down  eternity 
Of  the  prisoned  self  that  never  can  be  free 

Until  its  days  of  separateness  expire! 

Give  me  again  thy  lips,  and  let  me  lie 

In  listening  silence  on  thy  rhythmic  heart. 
The  measures  of  that  great  musician's  art 
Entrance  my  soul  —  but  cannot  satisfy 
Its  thirst  for  unity.     Oh,  let  me  die, 

And  be  of  thy  very  self  a  throbbing  part! 


AT  LOVE'S  FEET 

Here  where  I  lie  a  pilgrim  at  Love's  feet. 

Palm  pressed  to  palm  in  pure  humility. 

Are  many  wonders  they  may  never  see 
Whose  brows  challenge  the  morning.     Strangely  sweet 
This  realm  where  mastery  and  service  meet. 

Losing  themselves  in  Love's  immediacy. 

Its  guarded  gate  reveals  that  mystery 
Reserved  for  those  whose  lesson  is  complete. 


201 


Here  Pride  and  Passion  yield  their  ancient  power. 
And  Faith,  twin-born  with  Knowledge,  blends  with  him 
In  one  clear  revelation.     Since  man's  eyes 
Saw  first  in  vision  Love's  rare  mountain  flower, 
Some  souls  have  sought  it  on  the  perilous  rim 

Of  Self's  cold  avalanche  —  and  grasped  the  prize. 


FROM    THE    VOID 

When  swimming  in  the  sea  of  Love*s  embrace. 
Under  the  rays  of  the  meridian  sun, 
I  hear  a  Voice  in  the  void,  and  one  by  one 

The  veils  of  substance  fall  from  oiF  the  face 

Of  my  free  spirit.     In  the  urgent  race 

Toward  the  white  shore  where  being  is  begun 
In  harmony  supernal,  I  have  won 

From  ravished  Life  the  keys  of  time  and  space. 

The  Universe  in  semblance  of  man's  form 
Descends  upoi^  the  waters,  and  I  hold 
Close  to  my  heart  the  secret  rarely  told 

Before  to  any  mortal.     Human-warm 
And  soft  for  me,  this  Presence  I  enfold 

Can  walk  the  sea  and  curb  the  will  of  the  storm. 


202 


LOVE  LIGHT 

Beloved,  in  those  first  remembered  days 
We  smiled  into  Love's  face,  not  questioning 
His  meaning,  as  gay  children  in  the  spring 

Laugh  in  the  face  of  joyous  winds  whose  ways 

They  are  too  frail  to  follow.     But  the  gaze 
Of  Love  grew  serious,  discovering 
A  nascent,  interspiritual  thing  — 

Nameless  on  earth,  that  set  our  souls  ablaze. 

Have  mortals  ever  seen  the  steady  light 

That  now  bums  in  Love's  eyes?     To  me  it  seems 
The  answer  to  some  question  asked  in  dreams 

And  then  forgotten.     And  it  thrills  my  sight  — 
As  if  the  sun,  with  flame-compelling  streams, 

Had  hurled  a  new  strange  planet  down  the  night. 


THE  RIVER 

Along  the  woods  and  meadows  of  my  days 
The  thought  of  thee  majestically  flows. 
Like  some  great  river  that  in  gladness  goes 

Down  to  the  ocean.     All  thy  fertile  ways 

Are  blossom-bordered,  for  in  Love's  warm  rays 
Each  kiss  of  thine  becomes  a  crimson  rose 
And  every  tear  a  lily,  pure  as  those 

White  blooms  that  won  the  Galilean's  praise. 


203 


Thou  art  the  Nile  and  I  am  the  land  of  Kem. 
River  of  joy,  making  my  arid  years 

A  garden  of  sweet  fragrance  and  of  song ! 
Enriched  by  thee,  my  fields  have  made  arrears 
Of  all  neglected  harvests,  and  a  throng 
Of  labourers  in  due  time  shall  garner  them. 


AT  THE  SUPREME  HOUR 

When  comes  the  supreme  hour  for  me  to  die: 
When,  justified  of  life,  I  turn  at  last 
To  question  the  pale  secret  of  the  past 

And  to  be  ond  with  it,  O  Love,  that  I 

May  have  thy  clinging  lips  to  fortify 

My  spirit  for  the  journey!     I  would  cast 
Myj  soul  upon  thy  kiss,  as  on  some  vast 

And  shoreless  ocean  refluent  with  the  sky. 

And  may  this  dual,  intimate  ecstasy 

Be  as  my  bark  to  venture  the  unknown. 
Then  to  whatever  region  I  am  blown 

By  the  death  winds  of  evening,  I  shall  be 
Borne  upon  rapture  —  nevermore  alone  — 

Though  incorporeal,  still  one  with  theef 


204 


THE   OASIS 

If  I  had  not  the  patience  of  the  earth, 
That  hour  on  hour  develops  the  slow  seed, 
And  age  on  age  attains  each  racial  deed, 

I  should  despair  of  ever  being  worth 

The  wonder  of  your  love.     In  Life's  grey  dearth, 
My  sun-scorched  oasis  bore  scarce  a  weed. 
Then  you  reclaimed  me,  and  my  spirit  freed 

From  the  arid  loneness  of  untimely  birth. 

Your  love  is  like  spring-water,  and  has  made 
A  greenness  in  my  desert;  'tis  the  deep 

Source  of  my  hope's  tall  palm-trees,  that  withstand 
Life's  whirling  winds  and  wild  Saharian  sand. 
Your  love  is  like  the  placid  stars  that  keep 
Vigil,  that  I  may  never  be  afraid. 


THE   THOUGHT  OF   THEE 

Sometimes,  Beloved,  the  mere  thought  of  thed 
Is  potent  as  a  Kabalistic  spell 
To  conjure  up  thy  presence.     I  compel^ 

The  latent  forms  of  air  to  rise  and  be 

A  body  for  my  vision,  fearlessly 

Beckoning  thy  soul  to  enter.     Then  I  tell 
That  wraith  such  wonders  that  the  sentinel 

Behind  the  doors  of  absence  bends  to  me. 


205 


The  thought  of  thee  is  poetry  more  pure 
Than  any  that  I  lock  in  measured  lines. 

The  thought  of  thee  is  light,  that  shall  endure 
Into  the  darkness  when  our  day  declines; 

The  thought  of  thee  is  prayer^  that  can  allure 
Angels  to  aid  us  in  our  love's  designs. 


LOVE'S   IMMORTALITY 

Among  those  things  that  make  our  love  complete, 
And  high  beyond  all  others  I  have  known, 
This  knowledge  is  not  least:     That  we  have  sown 

Together  seeds  of  beauty,  that  shall  greet 

Strange  years  in  blossoms  which  the  reckless  feet 
Of  Death  shall  not  destroy;  that  we  have  shown 
To  blinded  eyes  the  visions  of  our  own. 

Making  our  blood  in,  others'  veins  to  beat. 

Why  should  we  yearn  for  immortality 

In  some  imagined  heaven,  when  on  the  earth 
Our  flowers  of  song  perfume  the  dusty  road. 
And  speak  to  passers  by  of  you  and  me? 
Enough  that  we  have  justified  our  birtji. 
Ere  entering  the  inscrutable  abode. 


206 


BEYOND    THE  DRAGON'S    GATE 

Op  lesser  loves  I  have  known  jealousy, 

But  of  thy  love,  my  comrade  —  nay.  Ah,  nay! 

Our  separate  jealous  selves  are  one  to-day. 
Absorbed  and  mingled  in  our  unity. 
In  the  dim  future  should  it  ever  be 

Some  other  love  allured  thee,  I  would  say: 

**  The  brother  of  my  life,  who  is  away 
On  his  soul's  business,  will  return  to  me. 
Bringing  new  knowledge  with  him :  so  I  wait." 

And  though  with  pain  my  lonely  lips  were  dry, 
My  learning  soul  would  listen  at  the  gate 

That  looks  along  life's  road,  for  thy  far  cry 
On  the  world's  rim.     Only  we  intimate 

Of  spirit  know  the  meaning  of  that  tie! 


THE    TIDES 

The  daily  hours  my  lover  is  away 
Are  like  the  long  recession  of  the  sea 
Between  the  tides,  but  when  he  comes  to  me 

The  surf  beats  on  the  shore.     This  hour  the  grey 

Sands  are  all  dry  far  out,  and  rocks  display 
Their  sinister  faces,  that  I  never  see 
Save  when  the  ebb-tide's  far  uncertainty 

Of  absence  makes  a  desert  of  the  day. 


207 


But  in  the  rushing  joy  of  his  return, 

The  menacing  old  rocks  will  bathe  their  faces. 
And  all  their,  deep,  hard  lines  will  be  no  more; 
The  lonely  sands  of  minutes  that  now  yearn 
To  greet  him  will  be  lost  in  his  embraces, 
And  loving  waves  will  dance  along  the  shore. 


'ATTAINMENT 

To-DAY  I  pondered  long  on  the  rewards 

That  beckon  man's  endeavour:  gold,  and  power, 
And  fame,  and  love,  and  pleasure's  passing  hour 

Of  sweet,  that  but  a  memory  accords 

Unto  the  future.     And  I  asked  the  lords 
Of  my  own  stars  what  individual  flower 
Of  consummation  bloomed  in  my  life's  bower  — 

Was  it  the  best  the  jealous  world  affords? 

I  thought  of  my  songs,  but  their  abiding  worth 

Is  yet  unproven  in  the  court  of  Time; 

Thought  of  the  will  whose  sinews  help  me  climb 
The  cliffs  of  Art  —  that  was  a  gift  of  birth. 

Then  thought  I  of  your  love    .    .    .    my  one  sublime 
Attainment  in  the  dizzy  round  of  earth. 


208 


TIPHERATH 

When  I  caress  your  dear  face^  lying  so. 
Beauty,  the  great  Sephira,  looks  at  me 
With  visible  eyes;  and  though  I  cannot  see 

The  border  of  his  garment,  yet  I  know 

It  sweeps  the  far  horizon.     Visions  blow 
Across  my  rapt  brain,  as  ecstatically 
The  night  winds  move  your  hair,  and  poetry 

Too  high  for  comprehension  here  below. 

You  are,  my  Love,  a  medium  in  space 

Eternal,  through  whom  sovereign  Beauty  burns 
To  manifest.     Winged  with  your  love,  I  reach 
A  sphere  beyond  the  scope  of  human  speech; 
And  in  the  dark  with  you  my  soul  discerns 
Dimly  God's  unimaginable  face. 


THE   ENTITY 

Love,  is  it  I,  or  thou.^  There  seems  to  be 
Only  one  soul  here  in  the  darkness  now. 
Only  one  body.     Is  it  I,  or  thou? 

Thy  form  is  the  extended  boundary 

That  marks  the  dual  consciousness  of  me. 
I  feel  as  mine  the  locks  upon  thy  brow. 
As  mine  thy  long  white  feet.     Oh,  tell  me  how 

Never  to  go  outside  the  gates  of  thee ! 


209 


Hid  from  the  hollow  world,  I  would  remain 

Within  this  lily  garden  of  delight; 

Would  move  not,  sleep  not  through  the  long  sweet 
night. 
I  would  forget  that  we  were  ever  twain, 
Forget  that  I  shall  find  myself  again 

Standing  alone  in  freedom's  glaring  light. 


THE   INSPIRER 

When  words  of  mine  are  read  in  after  days 
By  those  unnumbered  ones  who  slumber  now 
In  that  vast  sea  man's  latent  loves  endow 

With  all-potential  being,  should  their  gaze 

Turn  wondering  along  Time's  buried  ways 
To  our  dim  day,  my  Love,  questioning  how 
I  wove  this  wreath  of  heart-songs  for  the  brow 

Of  my  strong  mate,  'tis  thou  whom  they  should  praise. 

If  praise  be  due.     For  I  am  but  the  lyre 

Thy  sure  hand  plays  upon  —  thy  master  hand. 

Whose  touch  allures  the  silence  of  desire 

To  mystic  revelation,  whose  command  ^ 

Rouses  the  spirits  of  creative  fire 

To  utter  speech  that  men  may  understand. 


210 


WHEN   YOU  ARE   SAD 

When  you  are  sad,  Beloved,  my  soul  hears 
The  far-off  sighing  and  unworded  pain 
Of  all  earth's  buried  lovers;  the  cold  rain 

Of  all  their  lonely  unremembered  tears 

Falls  on  my  heart  afresh.  Ancestral  fears, 
Lurking  among  the  shadows  of  my  brain 
Like  ghosts  among  the  living,  weave  a  chain 

Of  immemorial  omens  down  the  years. 

Your  joy  isi  of  the  hour,  and  pleasures  me 

Like  sunshine  and  the  spring;  your  smiles  are  flowers 
That  bloom  in  my  life's  meadows  wild  and  sweet. 
But  in  your  sadness  broods  eternity. 

Beyond   the  tides   of  aeons   and   of   hours  .  .  . 
I  hear  its  music  in  your  slow  heartbeat. 


THE   LYRIC    SEED 

Love,  you  are  full  of  songs  and  lyric  seed 
And  wild  harmonic  measures,  and  your  eyes 
Teem  with  the  forms  my  vision  magnifies: 

There  the  idea  trembles  toward  the  deed 

As  man  trembles  toward  woman.  I  can  read 
In  you  the  pass-word  of  the  sphere  that  lies 
Beyond  us  in  the  spiritual  skies. 

Waiting  the  world's  indomitable  need. 


211 


In  you  are  words  unknown  in  any  tongue. 
But  potent  are  their  meanings  to  inspire 
My  soul,  love-quickened.     Inarticulate 
Ardours  are  there,  and  melodies  unsung, 
And  poem-hopes;  and  Love's  prophetic  lyre 
Shall  give  their  voice  authority  withj  Fate. 


IN  THE  STILLNESS 

Last  night  thy  lips,  Beloved,  on  my  face 
Yearned  in  a  soul-rapt  stillness  more  intense 
Than  love's  last  passion;  with  such  reverence 

I  feel  that  tenuous  spirits  must  embrace. 

Who  meet  each  other  in  the  shining  space 
Beyond  the  bourne.     A  fearless  conference 
Our  souls  held  through  the  eyes,  their  mystic  sense 

Revealing,  like  a  veil,  unearthly  grace. 

To-day  I  wander  in  a  world  of  dreams. 

The  throbbing  of  the  city  is  to  me 
Far  off  and  alien;  and  its  murmur  seems 

Merged  in  the  sounds  of  stars,  whose  light  I  see 
At  noonday,  through  a  luminous  air  that  teems^ 

With  forms  of  wonder  and  immensity. 


212 


THE    REVELATION 

Spirit  whose  graciousness  reveals  to  me 

Thy  Self  as  the  real  presence  in  Love's  eyes! 
His  form  is  Thine  inviolable  disguise 

Of  flame-wrought  dust.     Within  that  veil  I  see 

The  symbols  of  Thine  ancient  alchemy; 
I  see  the  hidden  aim  that  sanctifies 
To  immortal  use  Love's  burden  of  sad  sighs. 

And  all  his  brief  earth-born  felicity. 

And  though  continually  I  look  behind 

This  mortal  beauty  for  the  deathless  One  — 
That  Substance  of  whose  shadow  is  the  sun, — 

To  Thine  extended  hand  I  had  been  blind. 
Maybe  forever,  had  Thy  love  not  spun 

This  passionate  web  wherein  I  am  entwined. 


A   BREAM  OF  DEATH 

I  DREAMED  this  midnight  that  my  Love  was  dead; 
And  when  I  groping  found  again  the  place 
Where  I  had  left  sleep's  door  ajar,  his  face 

Shone  pallid  still  against  the  wall  of  dread 

Before  me.     And  his  voice  in  sorrow  said: 
"  Seek  me  forever  in  the  empty  space 
Beyond  the  moon,  for  I  may  not  retrace 

The  road  whereon  I  dropped  Love's  golden  thread. 


SIS 


I  cannot  find  in  all  the  ways  of  night 
One  star  to  comfort  me  with  promises 

Even  though  unfulfilled,  nor  on  the  wind 
A  murmur  of  music.     I  am  cold  with  fright. 
Lest  in  the  shadows  and  the  silences 

Seeking  his  form,  I  leave  his  soul  behind. 


THE  ABIDING  PEACE 

Your  love  is  like  the  brooding  of  warm  wings, 
And  all  the  restfulness  of  night  for  me 
When  I  am  weariest;  my  troubles  flee 

Away  like  twilight  ghosts  when  the  moon  flings 

Her  lovely  glamour  over  earthly  things. 
You  are  the  firmament  of  poetry 
Above  my  soul,  wherein  continually 

The  passion-bird  of  Beauty  soars  and  sings. 

The  shelter  of  your  love  is  my  release 

From  the  world  sorrow.     On  my  lips  you  lay 
The  lyric  spell  whose  word  survives  the  day> 
And  in  your  arms  is  that  abiding  peace 
Never  to  fail  me  should  the  star-dance  cease. 
And  Time,  the  piper,  claim  his  cosmic  pay. 


2U 


THE   SOWER 

Thou  art  a  sower  of  that  potent  seed 

Whose  vital  flower  shall  fructify  the  ages. 
By  thy  strong  sowing  shall  a  thousand  sages 

Rise  into  being  in  the  days  of  need 

From  the  world's  fertile  soil.     No  noxious  weed 
Shall  rob  the  weary  husbandman  of  wages 
On  the  fields  thou  hast  sown,  and  God's  own  mages 

Shall  measure  them  the  harvest  by  their  meed. 

I  am  a  field  of  thine;  within  my  breast 

The  seeds  of  power  are  stirring  in  their  sleep 

Before  the  great  awakening.     Strange  unrest 
Rouses  me  ere  the  dawnlight  walks  the  deep; 

Then  go  I  forth  to  toil,  at  Love's  behest, 
Tilling  my  field  that  all  the  world  shall  reap. 


MASTER 

On  my  life's  road  there  stands  one  shining  day. 
Lone  and  exalted  above  everything, — 
The  day  my  woman-spirit  hailed  you  king, 

Humble  and  proud,  acknowledging  your  sway. 

Though  altars  mark  my  sacrificial  way 
Across  the  world,  yet  to  the  gods  I  bring 
Naught  else  like  this:  That  round  your  knees  I  cling. 

Whispering,  "  Master,  speak,  and  I  obey !  " 


215 


In  lyove's  rose  garden  is  a  hidden  shrine, 
A  secret  temple  where  high  spirits  meet; 

The  password  is  pure  silence,  and  the  sign 
That  gains  the  door  —  humility  complete. 

'Tis  when  my  spirit  touches  the  divine. 

You  feel  my  tears  and  kisses  on  your  feet. 


THE  UNRECORDED 

If  any  lover  ever  loved  like  you. 
He  did  not  love  a  poet;  for  I  look 
In  vain  for  word  of  him  in  the  slender  book 

Of  woman-song.     Your  tender  ways  are  new 

In  this  untender  world,  and  shining  through 
The  meshes  of  your  passion  are  the  eyes 
No  mortal  sees  unveiled  —  the  love-lit  eyes 

That  wait  the  spirit  in  the  fiery  bluel 

Beyond  life's  shifting  rainbow.     In  your  face 
The  deathless  Vision  lures  me  —  if  I  dare 

To  follow  it  across  the  void  of  space. 

And  yearning  toward  your  beauty,  unaware 

My  soul  has  found  the  one  abiding  place, 
Beyond  the  goal  of  every  lonely  prayer. 


216 


THE   CLUE 

When  fused  in  your  embrace  my  soulj  is  free 

With  all  mankind.     Hidden  away  in  you 

Are  unimagined  vistas,  and  my  clue 
You  are  to  that  abiding  Mystery 
Behind  all  men  and  women.     When  for  me 

Your  eyes  are  wet  with  Love's  primeval  dew, 

I  am  the  dreami  reflected ;  and  I  view 
The  vision  of  my  self  with  ecstasy. 

Within  your  soul  the  souls  of  myriads  reachi 

Toward  the  obscure  Beyond.     You  are  the  sire  — 

The  all-potential  father  who  shall  teach 
The  gospel  of  attainment  and  desire. 
Your  torch  shall  light  the  future's  signal  fire. 

And  through  your  word  the  voiceless  attain  speech. 


THE  SUPREME   GIFT 

What  is:  the  dearest  gift  thou  bringest  me 
To  prove  thy  love?     Is  it  thy  tenderness?  — 
The  grandeur  of  thy  passion  ?  —  thy  caress  ?  — 

Thy  soul  that  offers  itself  utterly? 

These  are  great  gifts,  but  not  unique  in  thee. 

Aye,  though  thy  boons  bestowed  are  numberless. 
One  passes  all  the  others:  I  possess 

Therein  the  life-pledge  of  our  unity. 


217 


That  pledge  is  understanding.     In  my  eyes 
Is  written  all  my  weakness,  all  my  power, 

And  thou  canst  read  the  writing!     Fear's  disguise 
Falls  from  our  faces  in  the  faith-lit  bower 

That  shields  our  full  revealing.     We  are  wise 
Beyond  all  isolate  beings  in  that  hour. 


LOVE'S   BAY  AND   NIGHT 

The  darkness  never  gathers  round  my  heart 
When  your  eyes  shine  upon  me;  for  my  day 
Is  measured  by  your  coming,  and  the  grey 

Chill  twilight  of  the  hour  when  you  depart. 

The  sun-warmth  of  your  smile  makes  love-buds  start 
All  down  my  tree  of  life ;  and  when  we  say 
Love's  litany,  the  winds  from  far  away 

Breathe  us  responses  with  heaven's  lyric  art. 

And  in  the  desolation  of  that  night 

When  thou,  my  sun  of  life,  art  hid  from  me 

By  the  dense  world,  I  know  thy  loving  light  " 

Blazes  around  my  orbit;  though  I  see 

Only  that  pallid  and  reflecting  wight  — 
The  unsubstantial  moon  of  memory. 


ns 


THE   HIDDEN   ONE 

Love,  in  that  labyrinthine  house  of  thine, 

Where  does  thy  spirit  hide?     Long  have  I  sought 
Its  door  down  all  the  corridors  of  thought. 

In  every  impulse,  every  luring  line 

That  is  thy  being;  but  the  outer  sign 

Has  veiled  itself  in  beauty.     Whence  was  brought 
Thy  mystic  flame,  wherein  earth's  dust  was  caught 

And  fused  with  love,  reflecting  the  Divine? 

Thou  art  all  mine,  in  answer  to  my  prayer: 
Mine  in  thy  purposes,  thy  faith,  thy  will; 
My  dreams  of  unity  thou  dost  fulfil; 

My  secret  seal  is  on  thee  everywhere. 

Yet  when  I  love  thee  most,  I  am  aware 
Of  a  strange  something  that  eludes  me  still. 


SPIRIT  OF  BEAUTY 

Spirit  of  Beauty!     Let  me  worship  thee. 
Robed  in  the  form  of  my  beloved  one. 
Thy  look,  that  fires  the  fierce  meridian  sun. 

Is  too  tremendous  in  its  majesty 

For  mortal  gaze  to  dare.     Give  me  to  see. 
Over  the  eyes  of  Love,  thy  glamour  spun 
Of  filaments  of  dreams  that  were  begun 

Before  Orion  rode  in  Gemini. 


219 


Spirit  of  Beauty,  I  had  never  known 
Thy  bodiless,  immortal  dwelling  place. 

Save  for  this  lovely  mortal  shadow  thrown 
Upon  the  screen  of  time.     And  I  can  trace, 
In  every  line  of  Love's  illumined  face. 

The  meaning  and  the  wonder  of  thine  own. 


THE  EMBLEM 

In  worshipping  my  Love  I  worship  Thee  — 
O  Thou  inscrutable  Kindler  of  the  sun! 
He  is  the  emblem  of  all  things  in  one; 

He  is  the  medium  of  my  unity 

With  Thine  infinitude.     There  is  for  me. 
Recorded  in  Love's  eyes,  all  Thou  hast  done 
Of  wonder  since  the  ages  were  begun 

In  sleep's  undifferentiated  sea. 

My  Lover  is  for  me  the  Book  of  Prayer; 
His  every  line  is  poetry  profound 

With  esoteric  meanings.     In  his  hand 
Are  messages  that  Faith  has  written  there; 
And  in  the  lessons  his  warm  lips  propound 
Is  all  the  wisdom  I  can  understand. 


220 


THE   GUARDIAN  OF   THE   TEMPLE 

Gaze  in  my  eyes,  deeper  and  still  more  deep ! 
Behind  these  windows  dwells  the  soul  of  me 
In  solitude:  enter  thou  there  and  be 

The  guardian  of  the  temple.     Thou  shalt  keep 

The  keys  that  open  all  the  doors  of  sleep  — 
The  mystic  portals  of  that  unity 
In  whose  embrace  I  quiver  with  ecstasy, 

Beyond  the  bourne  of  those  who  laugh  and  weep. 

Covet  me  with  the  shadow  of  thy  breath. 

So  blinding  is  the  spiritual  light 
Of  this  high  place,  the  moon  looks  white  as  Death, 

And  the  stars  hide  them  in  the  hair  of  Night. 
O  Love,  thy  lips!     Between  them  quivereth 

The  very  wing  of  God  in  earthward  flight! 


WOMAN-LOVE 

Thou  art  the  Unimaginable  to  me, 

The  Source  that  sends  the  sunshine  and  the  spring 

To  bless  my  spirit.     Gratefully  I  bring 
My  golden  lily  of  life  a  gift  to  thee  — 
Fragrant  with  faith  and  immortality. 

Make  me  the  blossom  of  sweet  offering 

Upon  the  altar  of  thy  ministering. 
Only  thy  bonds  can  set  my  spirit  free. 


221 


Yea,  I  will  do  all  service  that  is  meet 
Unto  the  master  from  the  neophyte  — 
Trim  thy  souFs  lamp,  and  keep  thy  vesture  white. 

Thy  mouth  shall  have  the  morsels  that  are  sweet. 
My  mouth  the  bitter;  and  my  only  right 

Shall  be  to  bind  the  sandals  on  thy  feet. 


THE  INNER  LIGHT 

Sometimes  I  see  a  light  within  your  eyes. 
Not  of  the  earth,  as  if  the  hidden  sun  — 
The  vast  pervading  immaterial  One  — 

Shone  for  a  moment  through  its  own  disguise 

Of  planetary  substance.     Visions  rise 
In  that  divine  candescence,  visions  spun 
Of  hoarded  yearnings;  *twas  their  power  which  won 

From  the  Invisible  its  guarded  prize. 

Love,  in  that  light  our  guardian  angels  lean 
So  close  to  earth,  almost  their  wings  catch  fire 
In  the  upleaping  flame  of  our  desire  * 

Each  to  the  other.     And  this  burning  screen 
Of  mortal  dust,  that  severs  soul  from  soul. 
Is  known  to  the  stars  as  Love's  world-aureole. 


222 


THE  PARADIGM 

Now  you  and  I  indissolubly  one, 
Find  in  our  unity  the  master  clue 
To  the  realm  of  dual  spirits,  all  is  new 

For  us  in  earth  and  heaven.     We  have  spun 

A  web  of  dreams  that  reaches  to  the  sun. 

Yet  stronger  is  than  steel.     Our  hopes  pursue 
Even  the  reticent  gods,  that  watch  us  through 

Life's  window  with  a  smiling  benison. 

No  longer  can  two  souls  that  merely  rhyme 
Seem  one  to  us,  though  joined  with  poetry. 

Now  we  have  found  Love's  secret  paradigm 
Which  all  men  feel  but  know  not,  we  shall  be 

A  double  mark  upon  the  disc  of  time 
That  shall  attract  the  eye  of  Eternity. 


LOOKING    UPWARD 

My  heart  is  sad  and  tremulous  to-night. 

Knowing  my  love  less  pure  than  it  should  be; 

For  shadow-thoughts  of  self  persistently 
Intrude  between  thine  image  and  the  light. 
If  anything  be  dearer  in  thy  sight 

Or  higher  than  woman's  love,  ask  it  of  me! 

Silence,  or  sacrifice,  or  ecstasy 
Of  meditation's  God-immediate  height. 


223 


Is  there  some  purer  name  than  Love?  If  so. 
It  shall  be  thine,  even  in  my  secret  prayer: 
Brother,  or  Friend,  or  aught  —  I  do  not  care, 

So  it  be  dear  as  that  I  would  forego. 

But  I  should  call  thee  Love  in  dreams,  I  know. 
And  bear  that  memory  of  thee  everywhere. 


THE  BROKEN  PRAYER 

Lost  in  Life's  maze  I  seek  that  dreadful  Throne 

Where  God's  wise  children  breathe.  Thy  will  be  done ! 
But  in  between  me  and  Faith's  blazing  sun 

r  see  Love's  eyes,  and  hear  his  broken  moan, 

"  O  leave  me  not.  Beloved !  "     Can  I  own 
God's  fragment  dearer  to  me  than  the  One, 
Supreme,  Eternal?     'Twas  His  hand  that  spun 

This  veil  between  the  known  and  the  unknown. 

Fain  would  I  tread  that  steep,  immortal  way  — 
And  yet  the  arms  of  Love  are  yearning  sweet! 

My  soul  is  tangled  in  the  ropes  of  clay. 

And  passion's  thorns  have  torn  my  faltering  feet. 

Unworthy  am  I,  for  I  weep  and  say. 

Thy  will  be  done,  O  God  —  but  not  to-day! 


224 

i 


THE    OPENER 

OLovE,  you  have  opened  many  doors  for  me 
To  many  mansions.     You  have  held  the  gate 
Of  joy  ajar,  and  when  reluctant  Fate 

Clutched  at  my  mantle,  you  have  set  me  free. 

You  touched  the  fragile  portal  of  poetry 
And  it  sprang  open,  for  my  soul  elate 
To  enter;  then  you  led  me  to  the  great. 

Stern,   smiling,   Janus-faced   Philosophy. 

But  now  it  is  the  gate  of  Purgatory 
You  open  for  me;  and  my  soul's  desire 

Goes  on  before  us  —  not  with  tears  and  cries. 
But  gladly  like  the  souls  in  Dante's  story  — 
The  saved  souls  that  with  joy  embrace  the  fire 
Which  purges  them  for  the  heights  of  Paradise. 


THE    SACRIFICE 

As  thou  wast  consecrated  ere  we  met 

To  sacred  service  on  this  orphaned  earth. 
And  I,  though  loving,  am  of  little  worth 

Against  thine  austere  mission  to  be  set; 

I  who  have  worn  thy  love  an  amulet 

About  my  neck,  mine  by  our  stars  of  birth. 
Now  bid  thee  go  —  leaving  my  days  a  dearth 

Now  pay  the  world  my  vast  and  sovereign  debt. 


225 


There  is  a  need  of  thee  greater  than  mine, 
O  thou  beloved  ambassador  of  God! 

With  my  heart's  blood  do  thou  thy  vows  re-sign; 
While  I  walk  back  alone  the  road  we  trod 
Together,  and  the  trampling  years,  pain-shod. 

Pursue  me  down  the  perilous  incline. 


THE   VALLEY  OF  DISMAY 

I  CAME  to-night  along  a  lonely  way, 
Under  a  cold  monotonous  grey  sky 
That  seeks  no  sunrise.     Fallen  rocks  deny 

'My  passage  backward  to  the  fading  day; 

Above  my  head  the  living  trees  decay; 
And  trailing  passionate  poison-ivies  lie 
Along  the  ground,  reaching  thin  hands  to  tie 

My  footsteps  in  this  valley  of  dismay. 

Love,  where  art  thou  who  yesterday  held  warm 
My  soul  and  body  interblent  with  thee? 

I  call  thy  name  —  but  only  a  wila  swarm 
Of  demon  echoes  answer  mockingly; 

While  down  the  gulf  rides  the  dishevelled  storm, 
With  some  dumb  awful  message  meant  for  me. 


S26 


THE    GREAT  DARK 

Beloved,  in  the  space  that  yearns  between 

Thy  breast  and  mine  these  bitter  separate  days, 
Are  measured  all  the  tortuous  dim  ways 

Where  sightless  spirits  wander  —  the  dark  screen 

That  hides  from  mortal  sight  the  soul's  demesne. 
My  path  is  lost  in  this  bewildering  maze 
Of  many  windings.     Taunting  spectres  craze 

Me,  mocking  the  caresses  that  have  been. 

Brave  thou  this  dolorous  region  where  I  grope 
Among  the  shades,  and  lead  me  toward  the  light. 
Deny  me  love,  but  vesture  me  in  white. 

And  gird  about  my  waist  the  knotted  rope 

Of  sacrifice.     Then  guide  me  toward  some  height 

Too  lofty  for  this  aching  human  hope. 


THE   TITAN 

I  KNOW  this  Titan  suffering  was  not  laid 
For  nothing  on  my  spirit,  for  I  gain 
By  growing  to  the  stature  of  my  pain. 
How  else  could  God  endure  it  —  He  who  made 
The  pact  of  Fatherhood  with  me,  and  weighed 
In  His  vast  scales  the  hopes  that  I  have  slain 
In  saying,  **  Thy  will  be  done  "  ?     Without  His  chain 
Of  worship  round  my  soul,  my  heart,  afraid. 
Would  stumble  down  the  mountain  of  despair 
And  break  upon  the  rocks.     To  little  minds 
227 


God  throws  the  crumbs  of  sorrow;  but  to  me- 
Why,  He  has  seated  me  in  His  great  chair 

Beside  the  board  of  grief,  and  Himself  grinds 
And  kneads  and  bakes  the  bread  of  cruelty ! 


THE  WELL  OF  TEARS 

Will  you,  far  off,  weep  too  in  that  glad  hour. 
When  I  shall  find  the  well  of  tears  now  hid 
Deep  in  the  rocks  of  pain?     Will  Grod  forbid 

Ever  that  I  shall  pluck  the  golden  flower 

Of  peace  upon  its  margin?     I  would  dower 
With  all  my  song  the  meanest  slave  that  bid 
My  lips  to  drink  its  waters,  and  be  rid 

Of  this  mad  thirst  that  strangles  all  my  power. 

When  I  shall  weep.  Beloved,  the  kind  rain 
Must  cool  your  burning  forehead  that  I  see 
Fire-circled  in  my  dreams.     I  would  not  dare 
To  quaff  a  comfort  that  you  »iight  not  share. 
Though  through  the  fierce  noons  of  eternity 
I  stand  with  you  on  these  red  cliffs  of  pain. 


228 


WITHIN  LOVE'S  VEIL 

O  Thou  whose  hand  has  lifted  high  Thy  veil 
One  blazing  moment,  that  my  Love  and  I 
Might  see  Thy  beauty,  do  not  —  or  I  die  — 

Leave  me  again  in  darkness!     Should  I  fail 

Of  sovereign  song,  or  prove  too  human-frail 
Thy  seer-inspiring  boon  to  justify, 
O  let  these  tears,  that  choke  my  heart's  love-cry. 

Weigh  but  a  little  for  me  in  Thy  scale! 

For  I  so  long  abode  in  the  earth-shade. 

That  Thy  refulgent  beauty  has  blinded  me. 

And  I  am  tremulous,  and  half  afraid. 
And  cannot  grasp  the  wonder  that  I  see. 

But  I  would  die  should  the  white  vision  fade^ 
Leaving  me  in  the  dark,  bereft  of  Thee! 


WITHDRAWN 

Spirit  of  Wisdom,  if  Thy  laws  decree 
That  groping  in  the  dark  I  must  abide. 
Why  didst  Thou  draw  Thy  golden  veil  aside 

One  blazing  moment  that  my  soul  might  see 

The  splendour  of  Thy  beauty?  I  would  be 
More  fully  blest  —  or  rigorously  denied! 
The  veil  has  fallen  and  the  light  has  died. 

But  they  have  left  great  memories  with  me. 


Spirit  of  Wisdom,  are  my  upturned  eyes 

Too  dull  with  weeping  to  reflect  Thy  face? 
Has  Love's  consuming  fever  left  a  trace 
Too  much  of  earth  about  me?     All  that  dies 
With  mortal  breath  my  soul  would  sacrifice 
Tq  feel  the  flame  of  Thy  supreme  embrace ! 


THE  EMPTY  ROOM 

Alone  I  linger  in  Love's  empty  room 

Where  hope,  desire  and  dream  no  longer  dwell; 

But  memory  stands,  a  pallid  sentinel 
Between  the  inner  and  the  outer  gloom. 
The  stars  are  weaving  on  Time's  hidden  loom 

No  rarer  wonders  than  these  walls  might  tell  — 

But  will  not !     Love's  dismantled  citadel 
Guards  here  the  sacred  silence  of  a  tomb. 

And  when  my  spirit  shall  hai^e  gone  away 

In  quest  of  Love  where  death  and  life  confer, 

The  silence  of  my  empty  home  of  clay 
Shall  baffle  every  curious  questioner, — 

Even  as  this  room,  whose  walls  will  not  betray 
Their  knowledge  of  the  secret  things  that  were. 


280 


THE  LOVE-SINGER 

I  SING  of  Love^  dreaming  the  world  may  know 

Something  of  that  pure  Beauty  that  I  feel; 

I  sing  of  passion  till  the  senses  reel 
With  the  full  rhythmic  volume  and  overflow 
Of  my  own  being;  and  then,  soft  and  low, 

I  sing  of  mystic  visions  that  reveal 

God's  mirrored  eyes  in  Love's  —  His  visible  seal 
Set  in  the  dust  for  all  who  come  and  go. 

But  of  Love's  final  secret,  being  wise 
I  do  not  sing, —  Love's  terrible  demand 

To  lay  his  jewels  for  a  sacrifice 

Upon  the  Spirit's  altar  .  .  .  Through  the  land 

Should  I  go  singing  that,  with  unveiled  eyes. 
Hardly  a  soul  would  even  understand! 


281 


NOTE 

Poems  in  this  collection  have  appeared  in  Scrihner*s, 
Harper's,  The  Century,  Ainslee*s,  The  Cosmopolitan, 
Munsey's,  Lippincott*s,  The  Smart  Set,  The  Forum,  The 
Woman's  Home  Companion,  The  Bookman,  The  Metro- 
politan, Everybody's,  Outing,  The  New  England,  The 
Reader,  Vhe  New  Age,  The  Broadway,  The  Era,  and 
The  Craftsman.  Thanks  are  due  to  the  editors  of  these 
magazines  for  the  courteous  permission  to  reprint. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CAUFORNIA  UBRARY 


